


Prodigal Delinquent

by Ethereal_Euphoria



Series: Prodigal [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Childishness, Gen, Genius Harry, Humor, Oblivious Harry, Prankster Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-05-12 12:05:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 66,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5665483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereal_Euphoria/pseuds/Ethereal_Euphoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Harry Potter knew from the moment he defied the laws of gravity and made a pebble accelerate at a freefall of 8.9 m/s 2, that he was going to have fun learning about the rules of all the known universe… and breaking every single one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Singularity

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters, settings, etc. that are recognizable are the property of their respective owners. I am not associated with the owners, creators or producers of any media franchise. Original characters and plot lines are Ethereal Euphoria's property. No copyright infringement intended.

Harry knew, the moment he saw his Mum lock the door to his nursery, that something was wrong. She kept a steady wand pointed at the door and he heard her heart make fast thumping sounds. Looking at his mother with a curious expression, he drank in her hazard appearance and shaken disposition. He remembered hearing his father cry out only moments before. He didn't understand a word his father said (since he spoke very fast) and it annoyed him.

He was shaken out of his reverie when the door blasted open and Harry took his first look at the  _man_  the entire Wizarding world feared: Lord Voldemort. Harry saw his snake-like features, blood red eyes, and pallid skin. He heard that man’s hiss. He smelled a revolting smell of rot coming off the  _man_. Harry crinkled his nose at the Dark Lord.

Lord Voldemort laughed a high-pitched cackle at the sight of his Mum trying to defend him.

"Not Harry, not Harry!  _Please_ , not Harry!" his mother begged, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Stand aside, you silly girl… Stand aside now!"

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead— "

'He doesn't seem like the type to haggle with.' Harry mused as he tilted his head to the side, the scene playing on before him. He didn't understand a lot of what was happening but the distress his mother exuded was enough to get him to stand up and walk towards his crib railings.

"Not Harry! Please … have mercy … have mercy… "

Harry had a hand around the lock that would lower the railings. He was getting ready to wobble towards his mother, but a sudden shrill of laughter stopped him. He looked up to see a bright green light, a color similar to his mother's eyes, shoot out from the stranger's wand and strike his mother. She had been standing only a few feet from him and he watched her fall, with a loud thump, to the floor.

His eyes grew wide as he looked into the glassy eyes of his beloved mother. Her red hair fanned around her, as if protecting her head from the hard wood floor. He knew, somehow, that she would never rise again. She would never smile again. She would never sing him to sleep again. She would never kiss him goodnight again. She would never again tell him that she loved him.

He tore his eyes away from the person who fed him, comforted him, and protected him. Now, his gaze was directed to the man who took that person away. It was high time that 'goo goo' and 'gaga' gave way. Little Harry Potter was mad, no, he was _furious_. And he would not let this murderer go without learning to never cross him again. Another green light ignited from the murderer's wand, he watched it fly towards him, and he felt an odd sense of hostility in following the 'get hit and die' rule. He felt the light touch his forehead, entering his brain and trying to take the soul embedded in his little one-year-old body. His eyes widened as he felt it break through an unknown barrier. Feeling something within him _snap_ , he felt pain. But mostly, he felt anger.

He glared at the man who murdered, and lost that little hope he had that his father would come to his rescue. He felt his anger, desperation, and sorrow build inside of him. He threw all of those feelings into knocking that green light out of his little body. But when it came out, it was no longer green. It was now a curious brightness of white. A petrifying scream later, he smiled.

He lay down on his crib and slowly closed his eyes… he could rest for a while.

Five years had passed since that night, and little Harry never forgot how it felt when that eerie green light hit him. Everything else seemed to blend into his forgotten memories. But who could blame him? Even for a prodigious child or genius, remembering anything seen, felt, or heard at the age of one was difficult. Nevertheless, it irked him knowing that he had forgotten something so important.

Harry watched intently as his Aunt Petunia showed him how to make breakfast. He was already mentally calculating the proportion of bacon to the oil, as well as the heat intensity and cooking time, to get the bacon to procure its best crisp. He turned her voice out and watched as eggs were scrambled next. He was so intense in watching and calculating that he did not notice his cousin push him from behind. He knocked into his aunt which, in turn, made her drop the frying pan onto the kitchen floor. With a loud clang, the food spilled everywhere.

His uncle was not someone that Harry had considered to have very good timing. But at that moment, Harry felt like he needed to revise his opinion, since this was the exact moment his Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen.

"BOY!"

Looking back on it, Harry thought that he was pretty lucky. He was supposed to go to the market with his Aunt. But after the disaster with the bacon and eggs, he was removed the  _honor_  of helping her shop for groceries. That usually meant that he would be left home with a large pile of chores, or sent to Mrs. Figg and her numerous cats. But Mrs. Figg had a bout of flu and Dudley had a play date with a kid named Piers. Only hiis Uncle Vernon would be home and would have been given the task to watch over him. To put it simply, as soon as his Aunt and cousin had left, Harry was kicked out for the afternoon.

He was a small child, he knew that, standing at least a few inches shorter than most of his peers. But he also knew he was smarter than most perceived him to be. Although his grades were nothing to brag about, he actually finished all his school worksheets the day they were given. But he wrote in pencil so he could erase most of his work before handing in. Due to his growing speed with which he accomplished said worksheets, he was often bored in class. Of course, the teacher interpreted it as his having his head in the clouds. It was a good thing that he had a seat nearer to the windows, he often found himself watching the birds outside.

One day, he noticed a group of older kids and their nice teacher go out to study the world around them. This immediately caught his interest and any inkling he had of actually listening to his own teacher was gone. What he didn't know about that class, however, was that this class was the advanced placement class and they were studying beyond even their own age level.

That was how he came to learn of the wonderful world of Physics. He learned that every action had an equal and opposite reaction, and that energy could neither be created nor destroyed but transformed. He learned of calculations way above addition and subtraction. He learned the laws of gravity and the acceleration rate of a free falling body.

Now that Harry found himself outside with no Dursley supervision, he made his way to the park. He looked down at his feet where a pebble was resting innocently on the ground. He picked it up and held it in his hand, his arm outstretched before him. He let go.

The pebble fell in front of him as if it was in slow motion. He calculated the velocity then the rate of acceleration: 9.8 meters per second squared. He picked it up again. Held it at the same height, and let go. Unknowingly, all he could think about was proving that nice teacher wrong. And as he calculated for the rate of acceleration once more, he grinned: 8.9 meters per second squared. He did it again, and watched with a grin as the pebble fell so slowly that it looked like it was hovering mid-air before falling straight to the ground again. The second velocity after rest was calculated at 10.9 meters per second squared.

After that day, Harry spent a lot of time at the school library, reading thick texts of chemistry, physics, physical science, algebra, history, trigonometry and calculus. He was extremely happy that the high school and the elementary school libraries were combined so he was able to read books that he would not usually be able to access.

He didn't know how he did what he did, but he knew he was having fun. In the boys' toilets, he watched as he made water flow upwards. He made a fully-grown fly slowly de-age and become a maggot and then grow back. He made a spider unwind its own web, while dancing in the process. He walked on thin air five centimeters off the ground while his peers moved around him, oblivious. He had to admit that he liked the comments he was getting about how he seemed a bit taller. He was having so much fun.

One of the days during his experimentation, his class’ music teacher went on her maternity leave. The new substitute, Ms. Robinson, asked the class to pick up an instrument and try to play it as part of her first lesson. The entire class was very excited. Harry and his classmates watched their teacher show them how to play each of the instruments in the room before asking them to try. Dudley picked the drums and whacked at it with all his might. Some of the other kids picked the piano and it became somewhat hard to listen to even for those who took lessons. They played the pieces they were taught, albeit some a bit off-key. Most of the class chose to play the guitar, and tried imitating rock stars they saw on television.

Harry, on the other hand, picked up the violin.

"Are you sure you want to play the violin Harry?" his teacher asked.

He nodded. He had seen the finger movements and adjustments, as well as the bow stroke along with its corresponding sound. All he needed now was to see how hard he had to press his fingers. He couldn't lie: the harder he pressed his fingers against the strings the more it hurt. Despite the pain, though, he knew that it was something that would dull over time and great practice.

A beautiful quivering note escaped from the violin as Harry tested it out. He smiled, feeling more confident, and started playing the piece Ms. Robinson played… backwards.

The rest of the kids in class were cringing at the unusual music, and Dudley was openly laughing at him. But Ms. Robinson was looking at him with a shocked face and wide eyes. After he finished, she asked the rest of the class to have go to their break, but asked him to stay behind.

That was the day he found out that once he saw something done, he could do it. And apparently, it was not common to possess that particular skill.

Harry, now age ten, remembered his surprise when he found out from Ms. Robinson that it was not _normal_ to be able to do the things he did with the violin, and later on with the piano and the flute. That was what got Harry to start wondering if the others _couldn't_ make a pebble fall at different velocities or make a maggot grow into a fly and back. He didn't understand. He thought at first that maybe it was because everyone wanted to follow the rules he read in books. Like how some followed the rules at school. Dudley broke a lot of those and never got more than a note sent home. So he figured it was okay to break a few of the rules he read, as long as he didn’t get caught. He didn't expect that the others literally  _couldn't_ break the rules.

Ms. Robinson called him a prodigy or little genius. He asked her to forget the entire thing happened. And amazingly, she did.

He always held back at class, hence the worksheets being erased before submission. But he thought everyone did it since Dudley was a bully who didn't particularly like people who were smarter than him. Dudley especially didn't like it when those he considered beneath him got higher grades. Harry understood that it was an unspoken rule that people didn't cross a bully that could get away with hurting them. But if nothing else, Harry was also painfully curious. So he broke that unspoken rule shortly after the violin incident. He let himself get higher than Dudley by a whole grade point in a single class. But he found that maybe he didn't like to break the unspoken rules. He was locked in his cupboard with nothing to do for a week for that stunt.

Harry was soon getting bored at school. Despite his best efforts to distract himself, he was running out of interesting books he could read in the library. He read some of them multiple times to the point that he ached to take out his pen and correct some pre-conceived notions held within the tomes. He had broken so many “rules” that they had stated were absolute. Although he wasn't the type to memorize, he never forgot a term in his life and drank up every encyclopedia and dictionary he could get his hands on, including those in different languages. That was another funny thing about him. He could do all these things and most of them… he didn't even put any effort into doing.

And it was on one faithful day that his cousin bullied his Uncle into making Harry fetch the mail. For some reason, he felt an odd sense of foreboding. But as he saw a cream colored kind of paper in between the white envelops and colored postcards, he began to understand.

He handed over the rest of the mail to his uncle and made a mad dash to his cupboard. He opened his letter and read through it.

A whole new world suddenly opened up to him, and it was one full of magic and unexplored possibilities. He smiled as he finally found the explanation pertaining to the countless things he could do that others couldn't. As he read on to the list of course books, he smiled even wider. Here it was: a whole new world and a whole new set of rules he wanted to see broken.

 


	2. Rule Breakers Convention

It has already been established that the Potter family heir, young Harry James Potter, could do anything he set his mind to do. So when he went straight to the public library after reading his special letter, he didn't let a silly little thing, like it being closed for the day, get in his way. He closed his eyes tightly, concentrated hard, and phased right through the wall. Opening his eyes, he grinned mischievously as the dark library suddenly lay before him. So much for the rule that said that solid matter was unable to pass through another solid matter without changing the make or inflicting any damage on either. He mentally checked off that rule as broken.

Harry walked past the rows of desks with their individual lamps and stopped in front of the one he usually worked at. He turned on its lamp and a dull light shone in the area. He quickly set off into the numerous numbers of bookshelves only to return to the desk with a large and old tome in his hand.

If anyone were to see the ' _Dursley's young criminal ward'_ bent over such a large book that was easily bigger than his head, they would have found it odd. If they saw the title of the profoundly large and heavy book, they would have been increasingly curious. So as Harry Potter continued to read 'Building London' written in the 1500's, he grinned another very mischievous grin.

' _And what was once an open area where the Kings Game roamed; shops were built upon to provide for the families of the soldiers that were called in for war. The families were brought into the land and given an opportunity to begin their lives anew. The shops that were built included the following: a few clothes stores, vegetable and fruit market stands, a meat market, a_ _ **pub**_ _, a barbers, an orphanage and a small children's school. Many of the soldiers had left their children behind and most of the new village's population consisted of women and children, which explains the reason as to the lack of many other amenities.'_

Needless to say, Harry was a very smart kid. He knew that it was very odd to have a pub built on such a land that was considered royally owned. The royal family must have consented to these shops before allowing them to open and logic stated that where clothes, vegetables, fruit, meat, haircuts, education and a place for the orphaned children to stay in were very essential to the villagers, a pub was very out of place. Especially since mostly children lived in that area.

He went back into the 'bookshelve jungle' and searched for books on Geography and construction. Returning with books that very easily competed with 'Building London's thickness and size, Harry found that not a single pub was ever demolished on the open area since then and no evidence supported that the pub was still there. But Harry also knew that there was a possibility that the books about building demolition and public vending registry did not have information about a pub that existed many years ago.

So Harry returned the books, closed the lamp, and phased out of the library. He had a field trip to attend and, if he got the coordinates right, it went straight to Charring Cross Road.

It didn't take Harry long to go through the rules of the universe listed in his young mind. If he was going to do something against the rules, he wanted to know which rule he broke. But there was a time he remembered when Dudley was chasing after him and he found himself on the school roof. Another rule he found himself breaking was traveling at the speed of light which man hasn't been able to do. It wasn't really a rule. It was just something he found that humans haven't done before so when he found himself on the roof a second after wishing himself away, he knew that there was another unspoken rule to break and this time, he wasn't going to let anyone know about it. The performance card/Dudley incident was still fresh on his mind.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. If he was going to travel at the speed of light that was approximately 3 times ten to the eighth power, he was going to make sure he ended up in one piece. He quickly thought of the latitude and longitude of Charring Cross Road, closed his eyes, then he heard a distinct pop.

When he opened his eyes he had to fight off a gasp from escaping his lips. He was able to conclude only one thing: this was not Charring Cross Road.

Everywhere he looked the people on 'Charring Cross Road' were in strange outfits of what looked to be more fitted monk clothes in different colors, matching them with what looked to be Halloween witch's hats, and some were carrying brooms! Harry felt like he just entered a Halloween story book.

"Hey kid! Watch out! Next apparitioners are coming in five!" a toothless old man told him as an archway appeared a little bit away from him.

Harry quickly moved closer to the man and a woman appeared on the spot he was in exactly five seconds earlier.

"Thanks a lot." He turned to the toothless man.

"No problem. Just come to me pub if you need anything. The names Tom." He said and turned away. The archway closed and Harry caught himself staring bug-eyed at the brick wall.

Harry couldn't help but feel he was suddenly warped into the time of King Arthur and Merlin. The buildings all looked like the 'ye olde English' type of buildings and Harry wondered how some of them remained intact. Harry even contemplated checking off 'time travel' from his list but decided against it until he found further evidence. He looked up and found a sign that proclaimed, 'Diagon Alley'.

Harry quickly started roaming the alley and looking at all the sights and sounds it had to offer. One thing was for sure though; he didn't like the smells it offered. Some of the people didn't seem to be as hygienic as the non-magic counterparts. He watched as the people of the busy street kept going up and down looking for one thing or the other. Harry got himself knocked to the ground by a man with platinum blonde hair who was being quickly followed by a small boy but neither of them offered Harry any help.

As Harry rubbed his sore bottom, he spotted a flicker of gold at the corner of his eye. It was a gold coin!

He picked it up and examined it. There was some sort of image of some person on the coin with some kind of series of numbers surrounding the edges of the coin. He watched as people traded silver and bronze coins as well as the gold ones with the shop keepers. That must have been their currency! He picked himself off the ground but kneeled down again and started collecting as many pebbles as he could find. Once he got around twenty of them, he looked at the gold coin very closely. Then he broke one of his favorite rules to break once again.

He broke down the pebbles into its base elements then broke it down even further. He giggled at the thought of all those scientists that would be after him if they knew he could even simplify an element! He took a few particles of oxygen, helium and other gasses surrounding him and focused it into the very basic structure of life. He then put it all back together again. He looked into his hand and smiled as he found twenty one very identical looking coins, although the series of number surrounding the edges were completely different. Harry figured that they worked the same way with the numbers on the non-magic currency. If all the coins he spent had the same serial numbers, he would surely be found out.

Anyone from the Wizarding world could debate that Harry Potter simply made a form of transfiguration. Any normal witch or wizard could accomplish this feat. But when faced in front of a goblin, the transfigured coin will always turn back into whatever it was transfigured from. Harry Potter's coin cannot be turned back. He changed its entire make; it was no longer changeable into a pebble. Unless of course, Harry wanted it to.

Harry read his supplies list for the first time and frowned.

Did they think he was stupid? He was in First year? He was ten years old for Pete's sake! In the non-magical world, he would be entering his Sixth Year at Primary! Did they think that he could not handle the work since he was behind his Wizard peers? Sure they all knew about the lessons already and had a different type of knowledge in their heads but he was not going back to first year! He was already breaking the laws of the universe since he was five, just like them! Harry Potter was not a First Year. He would show them! He would make sure that if he entered another school, another world, he would at least continue his studies at the same level as he left or the next. He knew that in Sixth year at the non-magical world, they would be taking National Curriculum Tests so he had to be ready for the Wizard counterpart.

Of course, he didn't know that Wizard schooling started at eleven years of age. He didn't know that he was already ahead, if only slightly in the theory of it, of all of his age group and he was very blissfully unaware that he was also way past his Sixth year in knowledge in the non-magical world.

He entered the bookstore and approached a nice lady with a small gold tag on her chest that said 'Assistant Manager Kathy'. He prepared himself first: Wide eyes; check, Watery eyes; check, Quivering bottom lip; check, Biting the top lip; check, Batting long, moist, eyelashes; check.

He made himself a teensy bit smaller and tugged on her robe, making sure that he was playing with his feet and looking at the ground a lot.

"Aww, hey there little guy. What can I help you with today?" she asked.

"Umm… Ms. Kathy? I was wondering if you could get me the first to sixth year books for the Hogwarts curriculum?" he said in the most innocent voice that he could muster.

She stared at him then his doe eyes and smiled a bit. "Aren't those a little-" before she could finish, he had already felt that she would say no. If _plan A: look cute_ did not work, _plan B: play the victim_ surely would.

"You see, I have five brothers and sisters and I got stuck getting the books this year. James is at the apothecary and Lily is at the cauldron shop. The others are with their friends today so I got stuck getting all the books." He whimpered. Oh how he hated doing this, but if it got the job done, then so be it.

"Oh! Well, if that's the case then I will be happy to help you with that." She smiled warmly at him and soon he found himself in the midst of six piles of high stacked books.

"Let me shrink those for you." She told him and he watched happily as the books were suddenly a thousandth of their size. A means of shrinking was already created in this world! That rule was broken! He couldn't wait to try that one out.

"Thank you Ms. Kathy." He smiled warmly at her. "How much do I owe you?"

"Wait, those are only the general class books. But the elective class books are over in that corner if you want." She motioned behind him. "After you pick the rest of the books, come up to the register and I'll ring it all up."

Harry thanked her again and got to the elective books. There were books on Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Medical Magic, and Mind Magic. Not knowing that the last two subjects were no longer Hogwarts curriculum, he picked out beginner to advance and mastery of all the subjects and made his way to the register. Kathy's eyebrows rose at the titles but didn't say a word. He had to pay all his gold coins, and was left with only one galleon, the original, and thirteen sickles left. He collected another twenty pebbles and was on his way around the ally once more.

Just a walk away however, another bookstore caught his eye. Obscurus Books. He went inside and found that it was not a bookstore, but a publishing company. They proclaimed that they published 'Fantastic Beasts and where to find them', a book Harry had bought only minutes ago. They had a small selection of books that were no longer in circulation and did not do so well at Flourish and Blotts. Those books were still being sold but each was the last non-publisher copy left.

Harry found several very interesting texts such as: Parselmouths: a history and biography, Find the Animal in you: Animagus training, and Metamorphmagi in training: a diary. He picked up a copy of each and found they cost ten galleons altogether. He put them in the shopping bag he got from Flourish and Blotts and left the publishing company. As soon as he was out though, he repeated the memory of Kathy shrinking his other books and just like how he copied Mrs. Robinson and the violin, the books shrunk as he wished them to. Five-hundred pounds of books were now in his pocket at a very leisurely two pounds. Harry grinned like a maniac.

Collecting the rest of his supplies was rather tedious as he had to do give the same excuse of five siblings to the apothecary to get the needed materials for years one through six. He got very bored when Madam Malkin measured him for his uniform and got rather annoyed when she commented on how small he was. He had to collect another twenty coins since once again, his pebble-coins were already spent. He made sure to keep the original galleon with him as a reminder of how it truly looked like. He went to Scribbulus Everchanging Inks for his parchment, quills and inks. He couldn't understand why a normal notebook and pen couldn't do the job, but he promised himself that he would practice writing with a quill since it was harder to use than a pen. He shrunk all of his things before he spotted a few people with what looked to be wooden trunks.

"Excuse me sir," he asked a heavy set man carrying a trunk with him. "Where did you buy your trunk?"

The man huffed a bit at the weight of the trunk but then bobbed his head over a dark alley that said 'Knockturn Alley'. After wondering why the man did not simply shrink the trunk, Harry thanked him and entered the dark alley. The first store he saw was the trunk store and he was very grateful for that. The alley was very dark and he couldn't help but be reminded of his cupboard on nights that his imagination ran away with him and scared him.

Inside the trunk store, a man with a long beard and a bald head was chopping some wood using what seemed like a stick with a blue light. It reminded Harry of a light saber.

"Excuse me sir, but I would like to purchase a trunk." He said in the loudest voice he could muster since he was afraid of not being heard over the sound of the stick.

The man stopped what he was doing and turned to Harry. "O' course! O' course! Right this way!"

Harry saw his fair share of regular trunks with just one compartment but when the man got to those with more than one, he happily agreed on the two compartment trunk. The man offered to show him more but Harry knew that he could just as use the shrinking charm in the opposite manner and make the inside of the trunk bigger. Two compartments were fine as long as the second compartment was a secret one so that the Dursley's couldn't get to his more valuable things. The man put in extra security spells and asked for a drop of blood from Harry. Harry was squeamish at first and looked away as a small dagger cut his finger. The man muttered something then the cut was fully healed. Harry made a mental note to read his books on Medical Magic soon.

Harry left the trunk shop five galleons poorer and was on his way to what he thought was his last buy of the day: a wand.

Harry didn't know what the wand was for of course. He hadn't needed a wand before. He stared at the shabby little shop and sighed before entering.

"Aahh, Mr. Potter. I was wondering when I would get to meet you." A voice spoke as soon as he entered and right before a bell tinkered.

Harry found himself face to face with the oldest man he had ever seen in his life.

"Well, come now. Which is your wand arm?" the man asked.

"Err… I haven't really ever held a wand before." Harry told him.

"Well then, which hand do you use the most? Maybe when writing something?" the man elaborated.

"I trained myself to be ambidextrous by writing with both hands but I do lean on my right hand a bit more with writing… though I use my left hand to do my tasks." Harry answered truthfully.

A tape-measure appeared out of nowhere and started measuring Harry in so many ways that Harry lost count.

"Well then, try this one. Rosewood, Dragon heartstring, thirteen inches. Swishy."

Harry held on to the long stick of wood but it was instantly snatched from his hand. This went on a dozen times before the man got a strange look on his face.

"I wonder…" he muttered. "Try this one Mr. Potter. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry felt a relative warmth spread across his fingers when he held the wand and instantly, red and gold sparks emitted from the end.

"Very good then Mr. Potter, very good! Curious… very curious…" the old man then started to mumble again.

"Excuse me, sir, but it still doesn't feel at all very right." Harry spoke up.

The old man looked at him in surprise. "Not right?"

Harry nodded. "It's warm in my hand and I like it but there seems to be a part missing."

The old man's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. He went over to the wand that lay on the fading purple cushion then handed it to Harry.

Instantly, the feeling of something missing was completely gone as Harry held on to both wands. Gold and blue sparks instantly shot out of the phoenix wand and the old wand respectively.

"Even more curious Mr. Potter!" the old man clapped happily.

"What's curious, sir?" Harry asked.

"I remember every wand I have ever sold Mr. Potter. You're first wand's core came from a phoenix that only gave one other feather… just one other. And that wand, why, that wand gave you that scar." He said as his eyes went straight to Harry's forehead.

Harry filed away the information to look through once he got to Hogwarts. "And the other wand sir? What is it made of?"

The old man grinned so wide that he looked like a Cheshire cat. "Even I do not know its make. The first Ollivander to make wands made that one and it was the last one he made before he died. All that my ancestor passed on, aside from the art, was that wand."

Harry left the shop ten galleons poorer, he thankfully got a discount and instead of seven galleons each, he had paid only three for the phoenix wand as ' _an apology for the scar that remains marred on your forehead'._

He patted his pocket that was full of books, a trunk, potion supplies, parchments, quills and inks. Just as he was about to 'light speed travel' as he liked to call it, he heard a distinct hoot from a store near him. He shrunk both his wands and put them in the shrunken trunk. He approached the shop called 'Eyelops Owl Emporium' and entered it. Inside he saw the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. It was a snowy white owl with a dark beak and piercing amber eyes.

"She's a beut, aint she?" the shop keeper asked him. Harry just nodded. "If you want, I'll sell her to you for five galleons. I'll even throw in her cage."

Harry handed the man the last of his made galleons and left the store with the owl in her cage. Harry didn't know whether he could shrink her or not. It was different working with living things and he already promised himself he would never hurt another being. The fly he had toyed with as a child was a painful reminder of that. He had first found it funny but after he made a spider unwind its own web, he realized that he was hurting them. It died shortly after, choking on its own web. He never used animals or insects with his rule breaking again. Unless they consented of course, like how one of Mrs. Figg's cats once allowed him to let the fur which Mrs. Figg had cut off accidentally, grow back faster. Harry sighed and opened the cage. The owl looked at him expectantly.

"I won't be able to keep you until the end of the summer. We won't fit in my cupboard." He told her then he picked up his pre-written reply to Professor M. McGonagall. "Bring this to Hogwarts. I'll be there come September then I'll name you. You do know where Hogwarts is, right?"

The owl merely stared at him.

"The letter did say to owl the reply…" he trailed off but before he could say anymore, the snowy owl leapt out of the cage and grabbed his letter, flying into the sky until Harry couldn't see her anymore. Harry wasn't entirely sure as to what owling a reply meant or how an owl could deliver a letter but he figured that if he didn't receive a reply, he could always just come back to Diagon Ally and ask. Harry shrunk the cage and put it in his pocket as well.

He went back to the spot where he had originally 'light speed traveled' and concentrated on Privet drive, specifically, his cupboard.

In a second he was at his desired destination and he grinned idiotically as he lay down in his cot. He still wasn't sure if he had time traveled but part of him felt that he did not and that rule was to be broken later on in his life. But that did not disappoint him in the slightest.

He had found more rule breakers like him and he had also realized that they all followed a set of their own rules. If he didn't know any better, he could have sworn that he just attended a Rule Breakers Convention. And with that thought, he drifted off into a peaceful nap. It was only three in the afternoon after all.


	3. The little Potter that could

We have already discerned that little Harry Potter was not 'normal'. Well, to society's standards anyway. So was it truly a surprise when eleven year old Harry Potter was all set and ready to go to a school for witches and wizards with knowledge of a third year Hogwarts student?

Harry frowned as he continued to read his book on Third year Charms. He was reluctant to admit it, but he couldn't quite comprehend some of his required school materials. In each and every one of his books, especially the subjects of Potions, Transfiguration and Charms, they spoke of such promising possibilities that they offered to the average witch or wizard seeking to better their magic capabilities. There were books upon books that they suggested a student read for further information on certain theories and practices. Harry had gone to Diagon Alley three times and had purchased all the recommended books. He quickly dived into the extra reading materials and soaked up the theories like a sponge but as soon as he saw the potential to develop his skills from the information, it would take it all back and strap onto him a set of his most hated enemies: restrictions… regulations… RULES.

So many limits… why couldn't the other rule breakers go past their idea of what could and could not be done? That was how breakthroughs were created. One had to set aside the thought of what one thought one couldn't do and try it out anyway. One might be surprised.

The young Potter heir was astonished to find that from the very beginning, wizards and witches learned about things that they could NOT do. LIMITS: that was what most of the subjects covered going into basics and what it backtracked into after the long and arduous task of going through numerous theories and laws. Harry did not agree with limits. There were quantities such as positive and negative infinity. If mere units used for measurement could have no limits, why should he?

But that's where the problem started. Without the set of limits that the books listed, he could not levitate even the lightest of objects. It was written in one of the books he had purchased that the main 'requirements' to perform magic were: wand, word and will. They were limits and considered the most basic of rules for young wizards and witches when performing feats of magic. They were the three basic ingredients needed to be able to 'make magic work'. It was _the_ rule… _the_ limit… he scoffed.

Harry knew he didn't need a wand, but he tried levitating a quill using his anyway, hoping that the stupid quill would rise a few centimeters off the ground. Nothing happened. Harry went to the library to borrow a book in Latin verbal to ensure that he pronounced the spell correctly. He was, yet the quill remained stubbornly on the ground. He was certain he had the will to make the stupid quill levitate, so why didn't it?

Harry knew that there was a piece of the puzzle that he was missing and without it, he would not advance in his schoolwork. The rate he was learning in seemed so slow to him. After purchasing his books and materials, he dived right into studying them. He was determined that he would make the administration believe that he was too old to be in first year. He would make them see that he was too intelligent to be held back to a class that consisted of crying little five year olds. He would make it known that he, Harry James Potter, was an intelligent force to be reckoned with. He would never stand to be part of a class that consisted of little crybabies and spoiled brats.

He was eleven years old for the Queens sake. He should have been in sixth year that incoming school year! But now he had to settle for being placed in third… with whiny and immature seven and eight year olds… how embarrassing. Why couldn't he do it? He had memorized all the incantations; he had understood the theory behind each spell and could explain it backwards and forwards, fast forward or slow motion. But he just couldn't perform a simple charm. What was wrong with him?

And the worst part was that time was up. In a few hours, he would be on his way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was both anticipating and dreading his official entrance into the Wizarding world. Hedwig had returned a few days after his first excursion with an envelope tied around her leg. Inside the envelope were his train ticket and another letter from the Deputy Headmistress that said that they would be expecting him on September first. The ruddy owl then promptly flew off without his say-so… so much for an obedient pet. The ticket claimed that it was for a train called 'The Hogwarts Express' that was found at a 'Platform Nine and Three Quarters' it had declared was at King's Cross Station, Northwestern London.

Harry had all his things packed and his trunk was shrunk, a reassuring weight in his pocket. He was more than ready to light speed travel to this special platform. He had obtained the coordinated to King's Cross station and quickly went over it in his head. He closed his eyes shut and felt his magic work around him, disappearing with a loud pop. What e didn't see was his Uncle wrenching open the cupboard door, or hearing that lovely nickname his uncle had for him at the volume of a thunderous stampede of elephants.

"!"

He still couldn't believe they thought he was going to Stonewall. Oh, well.

Harry reappeared at a shadowed area in what looked to be the train station. He quickly sought out a platform guard to ask for the directions to this 'platform nine and three quarters', he wouldn't want to be late and miss the train. Before approaching one, he heard a loud bellow from somewhere near him.

"What's the platform number again?" a woman's screech-ahem- voice echoed towards Harry.

Harry looked around and noticed that no one else had heard, or even noticed the woman.

Another female screech-ahem again- voice followed, but this one was a tad bit higher pitched and sounded a lot smaller. "Platform Nine and Three Quarters!"

He turned to look at the two female voices only to see a large group of redheaded people with trunks and an owl. Harry's calculating mind was on overdrive. He assumed they were a group of rule-breakers but none of the redheads looked to be first years… no five year olds were present, and they all seemed to know where they were already going… What was the need to screech-ahem-shout out that particular question? And why did it seem that only he could hear them? Was it for the delight of the little girl with them? She seemed ecstatic to know that small tidbit of information…

Suddenly, Harry's mouth formed an 'o'. She must be 'special' and the family was doing their best to make her happy and needed… how heartwarming. He could probably hear them because they used a specific charm that could only be heard by wizards… that spell would be interesting to learn. It wouldn't do so well if their special daughter kept shouting out some Wizarding information where non-wizarding people were… they must cast that particular charm a lot.

Harry disregarded the family of redheads and went straight to platform ten. If his guess was right, then all he had to do was count the number of the brick barriers and divide it by four, multiply by three. He set out to do so and deduced the correct barrier. He felt around it and gasped when his hand went straight through. He grinned and walked through the barrier, missing the disappointed look the elder female from the pack of redheads had on her face as she glanced around the station.

The hustle and bustle of platform nine and three quarters was in full swing as there was only half an hour left before the train would depart. Harry quickly boarded the train and searched for an empty compartment. In the corner of his eye he saw the group of redheads but his view of them disappeared as he closed his compartment door.

Harry resized his trunk and took out his Transfiguration book. He was going to try to cram all that he could before he got to Hogwarts. He was half way done when his compartment door flew open.

"This compartment available?" a male voice asked him.

He looked up and spotted red.

A boy about thirteen years old and another boy who looked just like the first were standing in front of him with huge smiles on their faces. Harry nodded and they strode in, tucking their trunks on the trunk compartment above the seats. The two sat down and stared at Harry, looking at him up and down.

"So err… what are your names?" Harry asked. He wasn't used to social situations such as the one he found himself in.

"Fred-" Harry noted that this twin had a distinguished freckle near his right eye.

"-And George-" this one had a similar freckle near his left eye.

"-Weasley." They said together and grinned.

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to be-" 'Fred' was interrupted when the door opened and a dark skinned boy entered with his hands cupped.

"Fred! George! I've been looking everywhere for you! I got to bring my pet tarantula this year!"

The thirteen year olds quickly forgot all about Harry and began talking amongst themselves. Harry took his book and continued reading, hearing the conversation as it flowed around him. These twins were troublemakers… rule-breakers… and Harry was delighted. He couldn't wait to see how many more were at Hogwarts.

Harry was able to finish his book and had started on his fifth year potions text. He was making strides in Potions because it was so similar to chemistry and Harry had grown fond of the particular subject before he knew of the Wizarding World. When the train stopped, he packed his book back in his trunk and shrunk it. It was comfortably in his pocket as he strode off the train.

"Firs' years! Firs' years!" a rather large man bellowed. Harry stared at him. There was something oddly familiar with the man…

A boy with platinum blonde hair pushed past him towards the large man and Harry felt an odd sense of déjà vu. He shrugged it off and went past the large man into what the other students were entering, carriages. He wasn't planning on being a first year and had no desire to show himself as such straight away. How embarrassing would it be if the first look majority of the school saw him as a first year on their first night? He wasn't stupid and knew that it could be deduced that he was 'slow'. No need for that thought to ever occur in the minds of his schoolmates.

He stared at the large black horses with leathery wings for a minute before entering a carriage. The twin boys and their friend entered the carriage after him and gave him a nod of acknowledgment. They continued their conversation but this time, included Harry in their talk of past pranks and rating them one through ten. They even discussed future pranks and Harry was glad he could add in his thoughts on the use of a transfiguration trick to make a cat's hair elongate and turn into needles. He was somewhat reminded of Mrs. Figg's cats when they described some cat named Mrs. Norris.

As the carriages came to a stop Harry hopped off and his eyes went wide at the sight of the castle. It was humungous! Beautifully aged and preserved… it gave such a home-y aura and Harry liked it at once. He had a huge grin on his face as he followed the three towards a huge hall. He stared at the ceiling that was twinkled with stars and moving clouds. The moon cast a mournful glow and Harry almost sighed.

Harry sat down with the three as they now moved back into their discussion on tarantulas and their behavior to certain spells.

After about half an hour Harry was getting rather impatient. He still needed to speak with the Headmaster or the dean to get a placement test and he didn't even know what they were all waiting about for. He turned to the twins.

"Fred?" he called to the twin beside him. "What are we waiting for?"

Fred looked startled at being recognized sitting so close to his twin. "We're waiting on those first years. We can't have the feast without the sorting and the sorting can't start without the firsties."

George looked to Harry. "Which reminds me, what house are you in anyway? I don't see a crest on your robes-"

"And what year are you in? I mean, no offense, but you're kind of short for a second-" Fred added.

They were interrupted when the doors opened and two lines of eleven year olds walked behind a strict looking witch.

Everyone was quiet as she placed a stool in front of the Professors table and pulled a hat on top of the stool. Harry nearly guffawed in surprise when it opened its brim and began to sing.

"Hogwarts was made many years ago

By a great four of friends

Each of these four had different styles

To which their teaching commands

So specific traits they searched in each child

To see which founder would teach

So one by one, a test they gave

To receive students each

So Gryffindor took those

Bravery was what he sought

Ravenclaw adored those

Whose minds didn't tend to rot

Slytherin kept those

Who was great in their ambitions

Lady Hufflepuff served those

With Fair admonitions.

So do not fear,

I shall see,

Where you ought to be

For I am the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

No one can sort you but me!"

The hall clapped and the strict looking Professor returned with a piece of parchment.

"When I call your name, sit on the stool and place the hat on your head."

Harry stopped listening to her and turned to Fred and George. He overheard as they whispered in hushed tones about secret passageways and something about a stolen map. Apparently, the two had nicked it during the last school year. Harry was very interested in a group they called 'The Marauders'. They sounded like the group he needed to acquaint himself with. If half of the things the twins were saying were true, the group was both brilliant and loved rule breaking. They sounded like his kind of people and he was starting to get excited at the prospect of being part of such a group. He had never met anyone that came as close to himself than the group.

"Harry Potter!" the hall grew deadly silent and Fred and George stopped whispering. Harry, disappointed that the twins stopped talking about the infamous pranking group, turned to the strict Professor, wondering what was going on.

"Harry Potter!" she repeated, her eyes scanning the remaining first year students in the hall.

"Oh bugger." Harry swore and stood. He wanted to laugh at Fred and George's incredulous looks but jogged towards the Professor instead.

He smiled apologetically and went over to the stool and slammed the hat on his head. It fell past his eyes and a little bit after his nose. He breathed through his mouth.

He waited…

…and waited.

Was something supposed to happen? He didn't think the other students were having this much trouble over their 'sorting'. He sighed. Was he supposed to do something? Wasn't it a singing hat? Maybe he had to sing to it? He cringed. He remembered the last time he tried to sing. He hit a particularly wobbly note and his glasses lenses broke. Was he supposed to sing again? He wouldn't have recommended making him sing… But he did have a handy 'reparo' charm to fix whatever he needed to if he broke anything else this time…

After a while, he finally got too bored and tore the hat off his head.

The entire hall was bored. He could tell. Some people were clutching their stomachs, a hungry look in their eyes as they stared at a chubby looking eleven year old that reminded Harry of 'Pig' from Lord of the Flies, except the boy didn't have glasses. Some were chatting with their neighbors, pointing at various members of the student body and giggling… even the boys were giggling… Harry noted which students were pointed at the most.

He turned to the strict looking Professor and found she had sat down in a chair and the other eleven year olds were sitting on the floor.

"Excuse me, Professor?" he called her.

She was startled and almost fell from the chair. Apparently, she was half-asleep. The way some of the older students laughed, Harry deduced that this wasn't her usual behavior.

"Yes?" she asked. "Is there a problem?"

Harry nodded. "After I place the hat on my head… am I supposed to do anything special?"

She looked confused.

"Didn't it speak to you?" she asked him.

Harry stared at her. "Speak? Oh! Was it supposed to sing to me? Phew. I thought I had to sing to it… that wouldn't have been pretty."

"Well, I think I need to speak to the sorting hat for a bit." A tired but amused voice asked from behind Harry.

Harry turned and saw the oldest man he had ever seen. He couldn't help but notice the eye-catching stars and galaxies pattern of the robes and all the WHITE. The old man was already pale and wrinkly but his hair was also white and a bit curly… probably because of the length. He bet that if it was cut, it would lay straight… Split-ends were evident too. Maybe it just needed a good brush… He didn't even look at the man's face. He was too distracted with the beard! How long does it have to be to get on the world record book? Was this man trying to get his name in the book?

The old man took the hat from Harry and placed it gingerly on his head. The whole hall placed their attention back to their Headmaster who remained standing with the hat that fell just below his eyes. Harry fidgeted as some chose to stare at him instead. After a few minutes, the old man took the hat off and stared at Harry.

"What did I do wrong?" Harry asked, he could feel himself become a bit smaller, an instinct he had tried to get rid off after his uncle stopped spanking him. Apparently, he hadn't done a good job. This man's stare was unnerving. It was searching, calculating and… invasive.

Harry looked away and suddenly wished he had stayed bored with his head in a hat.

"Mr. Potter… would you please release the sorting hat?" the old man requested.

Harry turned back to him. "What? You have the hat."

"You see, the hat is a magical object… one that was created to be sentient. The source of its power, what allows it to sort and to come up with sorting song is its' sentience. And right now, it is entangled in your hair." The old man pointed at his head.

Harry looked up. There was a shining rainbow colored ball levitating above his head. Harry's eyes went wide and reached up. It was tangled with a hair of his. He untangled the hair and immediately, the ball flew right back to the hat and disappeared into its brim.

The hat was then slammed back on his head so hard that Harry felt like he was about to suffocate. He smiled a bit, what a rule to break! 'Death by Hat!' was a very memorable way to go, he joked. He even thought of a few witty lines he could have on his tombstone.

"It isn't every sorting that someone can separate my sentience from the hat." It sounded equally irritated… and amused.

"Err… was that a rule that no one could separate you?" Harry asked.

"Technically, it's more of an accepted truth but I suppose it could be viewed as a rule…" the hat replied.

"Excellent."

"You are very different than the usual anxious first year." The hat told him.

Harry mentally scoffed. "I'm no first year. I refuse to go to class with five year olds."

"Wizarding Education starts at eleven."

That simple sentence suddenly brought Harry to a heart-wrenching stop.

"…at eleven?"

"Of course, oh… I see it right here. What a laughable idea! Your comparison of Wizarding and Muggle schooling… well, considering your background, I guess we should have expected this somewhat. In any case, you seem to know a lot about the theory of the magicks until a little before fourth year. But no practical work. You'll need practical even more than theory. I wouldn't ask for advance placement just yet. Try to apply the theory you've learned in the classroom setting first." The hat advised.

"Okay…" Harry sighed, a bit put down but brightened when he thought of a question to ask. "So how did I separate your sentience from the hat?"

This time, it was the hats turn to sigh. "That's a conversation for another time. I am very interested in your mind. We should chat again… not too soon. Come to me in one years' time. I'd like to pick your brain after a years' worth of Hogwarts curriculum."

Harry nodded, stifling a yawn. He had been up since dawn studying after sleeping at midnight and he was getting tired.

"You have no idea how many rules you're already broken since arriving, do you?" the hat asked.

Harry perked up immediately. "I've already broken rules? Which ones? Tell me!" he asked excitedly.

"I pity the house you enter." It scoffed.

"I pity the houses I _don't_ enter." He replied.

The hat chose not to comment on his reply. "It's best I sort you now. Let's see then. Plenty of courage. Brave beyond reason too. A very Gryffindor trait. Ah, an eager learner. Ravenclaw is definitely an option. Very cunning and ambitious. Slytherin would have favored you. Is there more? Yes. The scales have been tipped. I know where to put you."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Harry took off the hat, strode to his house table and sat down. The people at his table were clapping wildly and some even shook his hand. Harry smiled politely and introduced himself and they did the same. He tried to remember as many names as he could. The remaining sorting was fairly quick and the old man once again stood.

"Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts! We are already running late so without further ado, Tuck in!"

The fervor of the students as they breathed in the food was never to be forgotten… especially since the professors were not as distinguishable from the savage-like manners of the students to their own table manners that night.

Harry followed the prefect, yawning, but managed to get at least a rough path to where his common room and dormitory was in. The prefect muttered 'puffdorrinclaw' before the common room appeared before him. He smiled at the colors. They would no doubt irritate him one day and he would love to try out some of his theories in this very room.

He yawned widely before simply spelling his clothes into night ones before lying on top of his covers to sleep. With all the things he had done that seemed to be 'impossible' he couldn't help but smirk in his sleepy-state. He had even broken rules he had not been aware of! He would go straight to that Mr. Filch's office as soon as he could the next day. The list of rules and banned items was apparently tacked to the man's door.

Harry yawned as he got up and closed his black drapes. He lay down properly under his covers and reminisced. He remembered the first rule he broke, the first word he spoke and the first book he had read. It was a children's book that Dudley had thrown at Harry and forgotten about around eight years prior. It was about a little engine that 'thought it could' and defied the odds of what was deemed 'impossible'. Apparently, he was the little Potter that could.


	4. The Wish to be Small

It is often said that 'Reverse Psychology' can do wonders. Children, and even adults, that are told "not" to do an act are more likely to do the opposite of what they are told and perform the act when told not to. It's human nature, curiosity as to why something, or some act, is forbidden.

Young Harry Potter was always a... fan of the forbidden. And so, on his first day at his new school, Harry was found levitating three-feet off the ground and skimming the long list of forbidden items and acts tacked to the caretakers' door.

Harry frowned at the sheer number of items on the list. He knew that this institution was one that was highly revered in the rule-breakers world. Hogwarts, A History had told him as such. But why were some rules, such as: No Magic in the Corridors, in place? How was one able to practice Magic, when one was not allowed to perform Magic? They were bonkers, the lot of them.

He sighed and let himself down. He had a lot of thinking to do. If he were to break every single one of the rules he had just read, he had to do it as subtly as he could. Experience had taught him that if one wanted to break the rules, one must know how to get away with it.

He was in such deep thought that he did not realize someone; or rather, something hovering over him with a bucket full of mud.

Harry just blinked when he suddenly felt a sticky brown liquid sliding down his robes and the harsh five-in-the-morning-air engulf him in its icy embrace. He looked up and saw a floating tiny man, a bit taller than the small professor he saw at the welcoming feast, with outlandish clothes: his hat covered with faintly tickling bells and his bright orange bow tie distracted Harry for a minute.

"Ickle Firstie is all wet! Peevesy gets you some help. Oh, Mr Filch!" the man shouted.

Harry continued to stare at him through the grime falling down his face and clothes. "Are you a ghost then?"

Peeves shook his head. "No, no, no!"

"Then what exactly are you?" Harry asked; his curiosity piqued.

Peeves puffed out his chest with pride and said, "A Poltergeist!"

Harry's smile suddenly became one of mischief.

Even after recruiting the poltergeist to assist in executing his hopeful endeavours, most of Hogwarts occupants were barely even aware of the outside world thus Harry Potter had free reign over the castle… of course, he didn't know that. He walked around the castle, making a mental map of the area as he went. He couldn't help himself, however, from occasionally making loud noises in the empty corridors if only to hear his voice echo repeatedly in the empty halls.

He was truly feeling overwhelmed with the majesticity of it all. Harry was much too excited about his first day at a Magical Education Institution. He could only fathom the ages of knowledge that was about to be imparted to him by his Professors, the limitless imaginations and creativity of his classmates and fellow rule-breakers, and the unbelievable amount of rule-breaking to be done! Ever since his talk with the Sorting Hat, he had allowed himself to 'ease-off' on the texts for his future years, choosing instead to discover and break as many rules as he could while remaining below the grid.

His thoughts returned to that of the Rule-Breaking group called 'The Marauders'. The probability was that the people who made up the group would be older than the Weasley twins, making the students from third year and up to be prospective members. According to what he had 'overheard', there were four members of the group and each had something to add to the groups brilliance. Harry Potter's first task was to get himself acquainted with the members of the group and prove to them that he was no ordinary first year. But they alone would be privy to that information. After all, a caught rule-breaker was not a good rule-breaker. If his plans worked out perfectly, he would hear from them soon.

Another thing he had to discover was the 'pecking-order' of the Student Body. At his former school, Dudley was the King and any 'new piece of meat' had to pay respect if they did not want him to pay special attention to them. Of course, no matter what Harry, or anyone, did, he would always be Dudley's favourite punching bag. He had to find the Bully of this school and make sure that he was not on their bad-side. After all, if he was on their to-bully list, it would certainly give him motivation to prank the bully. If he was on the good/ignore list, he would be looked over.

Setting those thoughts aside, he sat down at his house table and quickly started to grab whatever was close to him, which happened to be the toast, oatmeal, and bacon. He quickly grabbed two slices of toast, dolloped on two large spoonfuls of oatmeal on one, crunched two strips of bacon into bits and started to sprinkle it on the oatmeal. Putting the two slices of toast together, he had his very first oatmeal-bacon-toasty; a meal he would later be remembered for throughout all of Hogwarts.

Of course, in his excitement of his first day and the prospect of his delicious breakfast, he did not notice the hordes of students stare at him and whisper to their neighbours.

" _Can you believe it? Hufflepuff!"_

" _I heard no one in his family has ever been anything other than a Gryffindor."_

" _Do you think whatever You-Know-Who did to him made him a bit wrong in the head?"_

Harry paid them no mind as he continued to munch on his chosen breakfast meal. After being handed his schedule, he quickly went to his dormitory and collected all the things he needed but faltered when he saw the two wands in his trunk. He had read that only one wand would be required and he had read in Hogwarts a History that one wand was all that was ever used. Having two was unheard of, and Harry did not want to put attention on himself. The more he was in the spotlight, the harder it was to go about unnoticed while he broke rules.

He quickly decided that he would break rules with his mystery wand, while he went to class with his phoenix wand. He packed them both in his bag and headed towards the Transfiguration classroom for his first ever Magic Instruction class, not before waving goodbye to his fellow puffs. They just stared at him incredulously.

As he entered, the classroom was empty save for a Gryffindor girl and a cat. Young Harry stared at the cat before shrugging and finding himself a seat at the middle of the room. He didn't notice the young girls' eyes widen before she went red and turned to face the front of the class.

Harry was carefully observing his surroundings, the classroom looked like a regular classroom. Something one would find at a regular school, with a few differences of course. For one, it was lit by candle light. Another, was that they used parchment, quills and ink to take notes. Those were only few differences but the basic construction was the same: desks for the students, a table at the front for the teacher, a blackboard for the teacher to write down important lessons, and a front and back door. Harry couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. Why didn't they have a class on the ceiling? It would certainly be a lot more exciting and prove to the students that magic, or rule-breaking, was encouraged within the classroom when it was restricted outside of it. They could also certainly do with more encouragement. It seemed like the Institution actually stifled Magic-using, which was extremely idiotic in Harrys opinion.

Soon, the entire classroom was filled with the exception of two seats at the very back of the class. Someone was running late.

"Made it!" a boy with red-hair and looked a bit like the Weasley twins cheered when he ran into the room with a boy with sandy hair. "Told you we'd find it Seamus. She's not even here yet!"

At that moment, the cat that was curiously sitting on the Professor's desk jumped off and morphed into an elder woman with a pointy hat, dark green robes, grey hair in a bun, and a pair of spectacles.

"Weasley, Finnigan! Would you care to explain why you are late for my class?" she prompted.

"Err... we got lost." Weasley replied, quite frightened.

"Perhaps a map then. Now sit down so we can begin."

Harry was still staring at his Professor. She just turned into an animal at will! And she changed back at will! Morphing from one form to another had mentally been placed higher in his list of things to do.

"Now, Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." At the astonished nods of the class, she continued. "Transfiguration is the art of turning one object into another. In your latter years at Hogwarts, you will be able to turn inanimate objects into animate ones, as such." She flicked her wand and her desk immediately turned into a pig, it was snorting its discomfort but grew silent when Professor McGonagall turned it back into a desk.

Harry frowned when he heard the pig squeal.

"Now I want you all to copy down what I write on the board. Then we shall discuss the finer points of this theory."

The blackboard suddenly multiplied and all four boards were suddenly filled with writing. Grabbing a piece of parchment, ink and a quill, Harry started to copy down what was written while frowning at the content.

His excitement for his first class was quickly ebbing away as the class continued to do nothing but discuss the finer points of his already-known theories.

Harry was disgusted to find that at the very beginning of Magical Instruction, they were taught the most common and must-be-followed enemies of magical existence: RULES. The theory being depicted was one of the wand, word and will rule that Harry had gone over during the summer. Harry cast a cursory glance at his own wand, or one of his wands as was his case, and frowned at the fact that it still had not done any bit of magic in his hands. He was able to do most spells in his textbooks without his wands but with the pieces of sticks in his hands, he was unable to do many of the spells listed in his textbooks, though he was able to do some transfiguration with his mystery wand and a few charms with his phoenix wand.

He waited for the discussion to be over, grunting at the apparent lack curiosity of his classmates at what would happen if the rules would be broken. They all just nodded their heads and accepted that 'some things just can't be done'. As his boredom continued to grow, he decided to observe his classmates and consider which one could be the potential bully.

He noted that his fellow puffs were listening carefully to what the Professor was saying though none of them could hold a candlestick to the attention a Gryffindor girl was paying to her head of house. Harry was slightly worried she would keel over, dead, if said Professor would look at her in an approving manner. She seemed to be one of the few who were enjoying the class. Unfortunately, no one else stood out to him so young Harry just turned back to the front of the class and rehearsed his plan over in his head.

Finally, after an hour of torture…err… lecture, they were each given a matchstick and were tasked to transfigure it into a needle. Everyone took out their wands and started to put the Wand, Word, and Will rule into practice. Every single one of his classmates quickly started trying to transfigure the object but Harry Potter did not joing them. Instead, he _passionately_ glared at his matchstick. It was not a friendly looking matchstick and in fact, it was the worst looking matchstick he had ever seen. It was sitting there, all innocent looking, with its red flammable head and light brown wooden extension. Oh, how he hated that matchstick. That offending thing represented all the rules and guidelines he had to follow in that very classroom and it took all of his effort not to simply light it on fire, as it was its purpose.

"Is there a problem Mr. Potter?" his Professor asked.

Harry quickly turned to her and cast the saddest look he had ever plastered on his face. "It's just... well, this is all a bit new to me. I'm afraid I find this all a bit overwhelming." He said, fake tears glittering his eyes.

The Professor's look visibly softened before she patted him on the head and whispered, "You'll get it dear. Just try.", before moving towards another student.

"Psst." He stopped his little glaring contest and looked at a puff beside him.

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you try turning the matchstick into a needle?" his fellow puff; Wayne Hopkins was it, asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't want to turn a matchstick into a needle."

'Not if it would confirm that idiotic rule she's enforcing on us.' he thought.

"Why not?" Wayne asked.

Harry sighed. He didn't want to tell this boy why he hated Transfiguration. He eyed Wayne, observing him critically. Wayne had light brown hair, fair-skin and hazel eyes. Harry noticed that Wayne's matchstick was pointy but the red head and wooden extension remained.

"Just try it." Wayne insisted.

Harry sighed. Here was the thing, Harry didn't want to follow the rules. He lived to break it. In class work, he didn't want to follow the rules set down since it conflicted with his belief that rules were unnecessary and unappreciated… in his book anyway. And how he dealt with McGonagall proved that he could get away with having no class work… for now. He didn't want to follow the rules of the universe… the rules of the class… the rules of this rule-breakers world. He wanted to play with all of it.

"It's not that hard." Wayne insisted even more, trying to convince Harry. "I haven't gotten it yet but I bet we both can. Badgers are hard-workers and all, right? We might even score our house a few house points."

Harry stared at the matchstick. He was a rule-breaker. But wasn't his motto 'Never get caught'? Maybe this was an unspoken rule… follow the rules at class. Only in class. But in the real world… the rule-breakers world… it was free for all!

Harry smiled at Wayne and said, "Okay."

That day, only a few people were able to turn a matchstick into a needle including: Hermione Granger, the unofficial teachers pet, Susan Bones, unofficial smartest girl in Hufflepuff, Seamus Finnigan, the boy lucky enough to still have his eyebrows no matter how small or burnt they were now, and Harry Potter, Transfiguration's worst enemy.

Harry left the Transfiguration Classroom with a smile on his face. He now had a game-plan. In class... follow the rules, shudder. Outside of class… well, they would all see that night at dinner.

He wanted to scream out in frustration as for the fourth time that day, he was being introduced to his enemies. Transfiguration was only the beginning. In charms, he had to undergo being taught that pronunciation was vital in spell casting, being given the example of a wizard who found himself with a buffalo on his chest. Harry wanted to point out that the particular wizard was probably an idiot but restrained himself. In Herbology, certain plants had to be tended to specifically in certain environments and that some would never survive in particular times of the year if planted at the wrong season. Harry had already broken tons of plant-rules at Privet Drive! His aunt Petunia didn't know it, but her rose bush could bloom during winter if Harry were to choose to do so. And now, in the one Magical Course Harry had been anticipating, he was learning that each stir would ultimately affect the outcome of the potion. He wanted to cry. He had broken so many rules in Chemistry already, he had been dying to break some in Potions.

As Harry lay on his four-poster bed, he stared at the ceiling above him. So far, these so-called rule-breakers were only teaching him frauds. He had spent his entire lunch break and free period breaking the rules that were imposed on him that day. He disobeyed the Wand, Word, and Will rule once more by turning every single desk in an empty classroom into needles by saying "Haystack!". He kept levitating the feather he was given at the end of Charms by saying "Wingodrium Levitoasta!". He had taken a few seedlings from the Greenhouses earlier that day and planted them in STONE. According to the book, they would die at that time of year but after Harry had planted them with such vigor, they bloomed and angry red flowers quickly blossomed. Harry concocted a potion by placing the ingredients in the wrong order and stirring in the exact opposite way he was supposed to, but still procured an adequate potion that would surely execute his will later that night. Harry was sure that all the Professors were aiming to drive him mad!

"Hey, Harry. You want to come down to dinner with the rest of us?" interrupted Wayne Hopkins.

Harry sat up at once. His musing would have to resume later on. There was a plot to be had and Marauders to impress.

"Of course I'm coming to dinner!"

Harry almost blinked repeatedly in disbelief at how smoothly his plan was going.

He would admit that he was not exactly the social type of child. Growing up, he did not have any friends and had as little human contact as he could manage. For his plan to get noticed by the Marauders to work, he had to start working on getting each house to look at him with favourable eyes. He needed to be everybody's friend. He needed to be the 'nice-boy-who-wouldn't-hurt-a-fly' so that none would suspect him if any of his rule-breaking would come to light.

He planned to try to sit with his year-mates first, his house then the next three. But he didn't quite realize until he was already at the Great Hall that his year/house-mates were trailing behind him, ready to strike up conversation if he wished so. As he sat down, they had sat around him, watching him with bated breath. He decided to take advantage of the situation and started to converse with them, putting up a kind-smile on his face. They all easily opened up to him, telling his of their lives before Hogwarts and what they wished to achieve when there were to Graduate. Some older years also joined into the conversation and soon the whole table immediately warmed up to the once anti-social young boy. He told them how he grew up with no knowledge of magic at all, forgetting to mention that it was only because he didn't particularly know it was called magic. The M word was forbidden in the Dursley home. They all readily forgave him first anti-social self.

After he ate, he spotted the Weasley Twins at the Gryffindor Table beckoning him to join them.

"Well, if it isn't-"

"-our little-"

"-friend?" The twins greeted as he sat down at a space they freed for him.

Harry just smiled at them. "So how was your first day?"

"Oh, you know-"

"-same old, same-"

"-old. Which brings-"

"-up the question-"

"-of why you-"

"-didn't tell us,-"

"-you were a-"

"-first year, and-"

"-Harry Potter, to-"

"-boot!" they said, jokingly, letting him know that they held no ill-will.

"Didn't come up, I suppose." Harry smirked. Then he turned towards the youngest Weasley boy and smiled at him. "We haven't been formally introduced. I'm Harry Potter."

The young red-headed boy went red and stuttered. "I'm Ron. Uhh... This is Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom. We're the Gryffindor First Year boys."

Harry greeted each in turn and asked them about themselves. It quickly became a re-enactment of the Hufflepuff acceptance as they shared their life-stories with him and he told them a bit about his life, only to let them let him off the hook for apparently acting anti-social. After some time, he excused himself and went off towards the Ravenclaw table.

After sitting next to a boy with light hair and fair skin, he introduced himself to them and smiled as they started talking about the lessons they had that day. It was a great difference from the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables. Where Hufflepuff readily accepted him, he realized that being friends with the Weasley twins had gone a long way with the Gryffindor house. They only started to actually speak to him openly after he had his conversation with the twins. Ravenclaw, however, only spoke to him about academics and debates on Magical theory. Personal Information was not exchanged, aside from names. He found it refreshing that others shared his disdain for some of the rules, they depicted historical evidence of some wizards reportedly only needing a wand movement and will to cast some spells. Elder years told them about 'Silent Casting' which explained the rule being broken by some others.

"But it's fairly difficult. They start teaching it to the Sixth Years here at Hogwarts. I reckon the rule is told to first years so that you don't end up hurting yourself by deriving from it." A Sixth Year Ravenclaw told them. Harry didn't agree to the Professors lying about a rule being real when it was constantly broken, but didn't voice his comment.

After proving his intellectual worth was enough for one worthy of Ravenclaw himself, Harry excused himself once more and approached the Slytherin table. He smiled at them, something they did not return. A tentative seat opened up next to a blonde-haired boy Harry recognized.

"So finally making your way to our humble little table, Potter? Come to finish doing your rounds?" the boy sneered at him.

Harry ignored the insult and stared at the blonde-haired boy, familiarity overcoming him. "Have we met before? You seem familiar to me."

The blonde-haired boy grinned at him. "Of course you would recognize me! The names Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. My Father is an important man in the Ministry and our Family has been a Noble and Pure one for Generations! This is Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott..."

Harry was basically introduced to everyone on the table. He was astonished to find that even those that sat farthest from him in the Slytherin table looked up in greeting when Malfoy called their name. Harry had found his Bully. Malfoy was probably pleased that he seemed to have heard of or seen him before. Eventually, as Malfoy continued to speak, Harry recognized him as the boy who pushed him down once in Diagon and another time at the Platform. He didn't voice his discovery.

The Slytherin table was similar to that of Hufflepuff, Gryffidor and Ravenclaw. Some of them were completely accepting, like Hufflepuff, to what he had to say. Others asked him questions about the things he told them about his life, as if to ensure his truthfulness. They were testing him, which is what the Gryffindors did. The two houses were both proud and a force to be reckoned with when angered, but also gave credit where credit was due. They were like Ravenclaw in the sense that most, if not all, were all also intellectually chagrined by some teaching prospects. They told him of a ghost teaching History of Magic, he would have a class the next day and find out if the Professor really was as boring as they said. The four houses were similar, yet categorically different and Harry was glad he had passed into each one without harm.

Soon before the Feast would be over, Harry excused himself one last time before heading towards his own table. When he was only a few steps away, a mighty crash forced the Great Hall doors to open and slightly unhinge. Its head almost hitting the very top of the doorframe, a large suit of Armour cackled. It threw dust into the air and it covered the entire hall. Every person that was Second-year and above suddenly became partially paralyzed; their legs were unable to move and their hands seemed to have grown their own minds and would follow what they wanted them to do. Their wands also went flying through the air right into the armours mouth. After taking a large, dramatic gulp, the Armour cackled again before shouting,

"FIRSTIES DIE FIRST!"

The First Year students all stood and started screaming, running around like headless chickens. Unfortunately for Harry, he was nearest the suit of Armour and it quickly picked him up.

"LET'S SEE HOW GOOD A FIRSTIE COULD TASTE."

Harry pointed his wand at the armour and red-sparks came out of it. The Armour cackled again before throwing Harry high up into the air and swallowing him as he fell into the armours steel plated mouth.

Harry braced himself as he hit the cold and hard ground. He levitated himself a few inches from the ground, making sure that he did not get hurt, but kicking the armour right after to make a hollowed noise that would make the others believe he fell straight in and was possibly hurt.

He could hear screams and crying from his fellow first years and suddenly frowned. They didn't believe this was real, did they?

Wands littered the bottom of the armour and Harry couldn't help but tinker with some of them. They were timed to react only when they used particular spells. He didn't particularly know who their owners were but finding out would also be immensely satisfying and fun. Looking above him, he saw Peeves salute him as the poltergeist continued to move the armour and have fun with the firsties. Harry knew something had gone wrong with the prank when peeves suddenly looked frightened and started stuttering quietly. Without another moments breathe, Peeves left the armour and disappeared. Harry's mind boggled.

"Now, I think that was enough. Are you hurt?" a deep voice asked Harry.

He turned around and the scariest looking ghost was looking right back at him. Silvery liquid seemed to be falling all over the ghost, disappearing before it touched the floor.

Harry shook his head and the Ghost grabbed all the wands, flying out through the mouth. He heard the cheers of the students and Professors as they were re-united by their wands. Harry gulped, thinking he had been found out. A hole pierced the side of the armour and Harry's Charms Professor stood in front of him.

"You alright, Mr. Potter? I believe you must be quite shaken. Mr. Longbottom and Ms. Li have been sent to the Hospital Wing. Do you need any assistance?" he asked him. Harry shook his head and was helped down towards his housemates.

A bang caught his, and every student's, attention and once again, all eyes were on their headmaster.

"I regret what has occurred this night. Our resident Poltergeist must have conceived this to be some hilarious prank to scare first years. It had gone astray however, and he will be reprimanded. If anyone is in need of medical attention, please proceed to the Hospital Wing. Mr. Potter, if you would please proceed to my office."

Harry gulped. One day, it was all it took for his rule-breaking to be discovered. Oh how he rued it. The Marauders would never contact him now. He was too flashy. He should have started small.


	5. Rediscovering Gravity

Harry Potter sighed mournfully as he stared at a large drop of slimy green goo slowly make its way down from the brim of his wizards hat. The goo covered him almost entirely from head to foot and was already a flooding the floor by a few inches. He bent over and scooped up a handful of goo and watched it as it slowly dripped down from his overturned cupped hand.

Children, especially young children, would cry, shout, scream, jump up and down, and do all sorts of things when they are upset. The difference between them and a very young Harry Potter is that ever since he could remember he always excreted thick slimy bright green, slightly transparent goo from his skin when he became upset. He would always flood his cupboard, being careful to keep the goo within its walls. And so, Harry found himself inside a broom cupboard on a beautiful Saturday morning excreting the same green goo he did excreted as a child.

Harry was upset. His first prank had not gone over well. The headmaster had called him in to his office, something that had never happened in his other schools, and asked him about the prank. Fortunately, he was not suspected of being involved, let alone the mastermind, of the prank and the headmaster was genuinely concerned with young Harrys mental health over the incident. Harry left the office a few minutes after entering with a handful of lemon drops and a promise to come to the headmaster if he ever needed to talk about the incident further.

But that was not what had gotten young Harry upset. It had already been a week and the Marauders had not contacted him. They had ignored his prank, his succeeding smaller pranks, and the credit for his pranks seemed to go straight to the Weasley twins, Fred and George. He continued to excrete the odourless slimy luminescent green goo and sighed even more heavily. Was he really that much of an amateur that the Marauders paid him no mind, thinking his carefully devised, albeit compulsive, prank was nothing to even consider?

The students whose wands he had charmed had all gotten their skin turn different shades of whatever spell they had been using, Harry had made sure that the spell only activated when they used the levitation spell and would manifest slowly according to the colour their next spell took. Even Fred Weasley was pranked and for two whole days no one confused one twin for the other. Fred shone like a bright red TNT stick, ready to explode at any minute. Fred found it hilarious and George was, figuratively, green with envy.

The only drawback he could conceive with his prank was that now he alternated between houses per night during dinner. He couldn't change that since people would wonder why he had done so on the first night and not on the consequent nights.

His classes weren't improving in terms of enjoyment either. Even Charms which Harry so looked forward to. Why, you ask? Because it was the only class where someone would be shorter than he and that person was even the Professor!

He kept chanting 'Must not stand, point and shout, "You're shorter than me!"' repeatedly throughout his first few lessons.

However Charms suddenly became very much like Transfiguration in a sense that the first few meetings were filled with Harry's hated things: rules. Professor Flitwick told them of laughable tales of wizards who mispronounced certain spells and ended up in humorous situations. But that made Harry's eye twitch a little every time another story was told.

He had NEVER used an incantation before he came to Hogwarts but marked that rule off as an unspoken rule.

Harry left the class with a pensive look on his face. He decided to raise his spirits during his break to have some fun in an empty charms classroom. The sixth years who eventually used the classroom later that week came out of it with so many different hair colors, skin colors, polka dots, and animal sounds coming from them that they were all excused and in the hospital wing for two days. This was another calling card for the Marauders which had eventually turned up having no reaction from the legendary rule-breakers.

Harry had even almost been late to his first Potions class, something his elder Hufflepuff housemates recommended him to avoid if he valued his life. He however, had his light speed travel so he was able to carefully plot the coordinates in his mind, hold on to his belongings and..he felt like he was hitting a brick wall and his body hurt. With perseverance, however, he was able to get to the dungeons on time. And that was the first time he had encountered the MerVamp.

Young Harry Potter felt eyes on him and a warm breathe on his head. He looked up and all he could do was twitch his eye. The man hovering over him had to be some kind of merperson and vampire cross. The hair… it was so slimy it had to have just been in the water… with black seaweed between the hairs and combining with it. The man's skin was so pale Harry had to commend the man… thirty years with no sunlight must have been hard. And the man was thin… too thin… and with such dark and billowing robes… he had to be part bat in a way… A MerVamp… and it was _breathing_ on him.

"Err… could I help you?" he asked.

"Aah… Mr. Potter… our new…celebrity." The man sneered.

Harry stared at him…'MerVamp… The swimming vampire… a bloodsucking mermaid… Ariel plus Dracula… Shudder…' were the thoughts running through his head.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter… where would I be able to find a Bezoar?" the MerVamp asked.

"Err… a goat?" Harry answered. "It would be in the stomach of a goat."

Now Harry usually wasn't one to be intimidated but the man was easily three to four times taller than he. And the man had extreme halitosis … if only he had a mint. Harry would have given anything to step back a few steps without insulting the man which Harry had guessed was his Professor.

The man sneered at him once again. "It looks like you did a little summer reading. But do not be fooled. Reading ahead will get you nowhere in this class. Potions is a practical art which takes more than the mere ability to read to perfect. There will be no wand waving or silly spell casting here. Now put your wands away and the instructions are on the board. Anyone who makes a mistake… well, I assure you… you will not be missed."

The class Harry had been looking forward to and had been making strides in suddenly became nothing but torturous lessons with the MerVamp. The thing had it in for him, of that he was sure.

Young Harry's first weeks at Hogwarts was shaping up to be as fun as life with the Dursley's.

Slowly, Harry closed his eyes and willed his goo to return to him. The goo retreated at a moderate pace, cleansing itself before returning to Harrys body. He opened his eyes, found that the damage to the broom closet was minimal, with only some goo left over so he quickly stood and left the place.

Harry yawned, he had not been sleeping ever since his prank. He would leave his dormitory and escape into the broom closet to have his goo time in order to relieve some stress and depression from midnight to breakfast. Which reminded him: there was an oatmeal-bacon-toasty waiting for him at the Hufflepuff breakfast table.

He stretched as he walked towards the Great hall, making himself levitate a few centimetres higher with every step. He continued to do so just until the height of his levitation was just high enough not to be noticed when a Ravenclaw first year bumped into him. Harry looked at him and tried to remember the boys name.

"Oh, Harry! I didn't see you there. You heading to breakfast too? I'll walk with you. Sorry about bumping into you. I'm a bit nervous about the flying lessons today. I never really liked heights." the boy said nervously as the two continued walking.

Harry didn't really say anything the entire journey as the Ravenclaw continued spewing out tips and tricks he had read or heard the past week. Harry merely nodded. He had flown many times before in terms of his levitation off the ground. In fact, he was flying at that moment if the Ravenclaw could only notice.

They reached the doors to the Great Hall and entered together, the boy beside Harry never even taking a moment to breathe the entire trip. Harry was very grateful to whoever waved at the boy beside him shouting "Terry! Over here!"

Terry Boot. Harry remembered suddenly. That was the boys name. They exchanged 'good-bye's and 'good luck's before heading over to their respective house tables. Harry smiled widely as he created another delicious oatmeal-bacon-toasty, munching along while owls flew around the different tables delivering mail.

"Hey Harry, what do you think we'll be allowed to do during the flying lesson? I head Madam Hooch was strict but fun. She is the referee for all the Quidditch matches after all." Wayne Hopkins sat down next to him and poured himself a bowl of oatmeal.

Harry swallowed the large lump of oatmeal with bits of crunchy bacon and toast. "I don't really know. But Terry Boot was talking about the lesson too."

Wayne nodded. "It's all any of us first years is talking about. Malfoy over at Slytherin is talking about outflying a muggle felli-copper and Weasley over at Gryffindor is telling anyone who would listen about the time he stole his brothers broom and flew over half of England the way he talked about it."

"Don't be nervous. The first flying lesson is always fun. Madam Hooch wants to show you guys how to fly a broom properly first then maybe show you guys something fun to look forward to if you join a Quidditch team." A fourth year Hufflepuff interrupted. "Of course, she'll explain the rules of the game to you all first too more for the muggleborns than anyone else really."

"Thanks, Cedric!" Wayne smiled. "I can't wait for flying lessons. Can you Harry?"

Harry shrugged. He didn't like the idea of a broom. Wouldn't it chafe? Besides, Harry wasn't really a sports fellow. He was too small for any of the sports his old school offered and more often than not, Gym class had been more of 'Rough-up-Harry' time for Dudley and his friends.

Harry finished the rest of his breakfast and gulped down an entire goblet full of pumpkin juice before joining the rest of the Hufflepuff first years who were already starting to stand and leave towards the Quidditch Pitch.

As the Hufflepuffs were approaching the field, the Ravenclaw first years joined them and the two groups started to talk excitedly about the upcoming lesson. Except Harry. The entire walk towards the pitch found Harry yawning over and over again while rubbing his eyes. He was also thinking about the Marauders. He needed them to notice him but he didn't know how. He couldn't ask the twins about them since the Marauders might deem him too weak to find them himself.

They finally approached the Quidditch Pitch to find two neat rows of not-so-neat brooms on the ground.

"Well? What are you all doing? Stand next to a broom!" a voice commanded from behind them.

Harry quickly found himself between Terry Boot and Wayne Hopkins. Their instructor had short cut hair and yellow hawk-like eyes.

"Now put your right hand over your broom and say 'up'!" she instructed.

Harry turned to Wayne and remembered Wayne was left-handed. He turned to their professor and raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"What if one was left-handed? Should he still use his right hand?"

Madam Hooch looked startled for a moment then shook her head. "No, if you are left handed I would suggest you move the broom to your left and use your left hand."

Wayne looked at Harry with a grateful expression before doing just that. Harry did the same, keeping in mind that his left hand usually did better with tasks than his right.

"Up." Harry said almost lazily. The broom shot into his hand, a look of surprise shot into Waynes face but Harry ignored it.

Once everyone had gotten their brooms to cooperate Madam Hooch all asked them to mount their brooms. Harry was dreading this part if only because he was afraid that he would chafe due to the broom. Surprisingly, as Harry tried to sit directly on the wooden shaft, an invisible pillow-like seat caught his buttocks.

"Wicked." He smiled as he felt the cushion and the stirrups that were invisible.

Harry hadn't known at the time but Madam Hooch was paying extra attention to him which she deemed only prudent since his Father was a Quidditch star in his day. Of course, Harry knew next to nothing about his parents so he continued to admire the craftsmanship of the not-so-nice-looking school broom he was riding.

Madam Hooch went around correct grips and told Harry that he may be more suited in using his right hand to steer, freeing his other hand for other tasks. Not knowing what other tasks one might need while riding a broom, Harry dismissed the comment. After all, who was he to know she was already trying to see if he had a talent in Quidditch? He didn't even know the sport.

Harry smiled as he relaxed his grip a bit and felt suddenly excited about flying. How hard would it be to ride a broom anyway?

"Now, on the count of three, I want you to kick-off, hover, then come back down. 1, 2, 3!" she blew her whistle and the students kicked off.

Harry found that it was not hard to ride a broomstick. It was, however, difficult to try to reign in his inner-flier as he suddenly felt the urge to loop-the-loop and try some barrel rolls at the highest speed his broom could take. He had never felt such a high! The earth was slowly becoming farther away as he continued to have, literally, the ride of his life.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle once more, signalling that they had to touch down.

Harry frowned as he reluctantly flew down.

"Now, I have had no qualms with your class, unlike the other. So I will teach you the rules of Quidditch and then I will put you through a kind of sample tryout which Quidditch team captains usually put through to specific fliers to find the correct person for the position. I will need to send a note to your next professor to excuse you all from your next class. Any volunteers?"

Harry desperately wanted to fly again and made no such move to volunteer. However, if no one would-

"I'll do it Madam Hooch." Wayne spoke up.

Wayne looked a bit green and Harry knew that the boy had no intention of leaving the solid ground ever again.

"Thank you Mr. Hopkins. Five points to Hufflepuff."

As Wayne left, Madam Hooch asked the class to sit on the grass as she explained the game of Quidditch.

"Now, Quidditch is a sport among witches and wizards wherein a team of seven players go against another while on broomsticks. There are three Chasers; they pass to each other a red ball called the Quaffle. See those goal posts? A Keeper will be flying around them to protect the goal posts since a shot made by a Chaser that goes through a hoop is ten points. There are also two Beaters. They carry bats with them and it's their jobs to keep in line two black balls called Bludgers. Bludgers have been spelled to hit players off their brooms. So it's the Beaters job to hit the Bludgers away from their team, towards the opposing teams' members. Now the final and most sought after position is that of the Seeker. It's the Seekers job to locate a golden ball that flies around the stadium during matches. A Quidditch Match can only end when the ball is captured. Now that ball," she placed her hand in her pocket and took out a gold ball with silver wings, "is called a Snitch."

Immediately Harry's eyes were glued on to the small golden ball. All Harry could think of was that he wanted that ball even more than he wanted anything else in his life. Harry was transfixed.

"Madam Hooch?" a girl in Ravenclaw, Padma Patil, raised her hand.

"Yes, Ms. Patil?"

"Has anyone died from being hit by the blood-gers?"

"Bludgers, Ms. Patil. No, not in Hogwarts. However some fatalities are not unheard of in Professional Quidditch though it is still rare. Now, the first position I will introduce to you is the Beaters position. I want you all to form two lines. Find a partner."

Harry's arm was tugged and he looked up to find that Terry Boot had claimed his as a partner. He shrugged.

Madam Hooch had them holding short baseball bat-like clubs that they used to hit the Quaffle towards each other. Harry and Terry were able to pass it back to each other three times, which seemed to be the class average. Harry was a bit disappointed that they would be doing the exercise on brooms but figured that it might get a bit too dangerous if they got too high and lost concentration.

Chaser try-outs, however, was done on brooms and Harry had to contain his excitement. As he kicked off, he did a little twists, turns, and loops before meeting Terry and a girl named Lisa in the air. They were asked to play a game of catch, throwing the Quaffle to each other, going further away every time the Quaffle was caught. If the Quaffle hit the ground then the team had to touch down. Harry thought his team could have lasted longer if Lisa hadn't fumbled the last catch.

He was glad that they were allowed to fly again for the keeper tryouts. Harry, Terry, and another girl named Megan were grouped together and tried to score against another first year, Justin, while making sure each had a chance to take a shot before they touched down. Harry himself was able to score against Justin and blocked two of the other students trying to score from him when it was his turn to play keeper.

"Now, for the seeker tryout I will release five snitches. Whoever catches one will touch down then I will re-release one professional level snitch on the top five seekers of the class. Whoever catches this snitch will be able to keep the first snitch they caught."

Harry instantly became serious. He wanted a snitch. And he would get one... no matter what.

Madam Hooch released the five snitches, Harry's eyes followed a specific snitch, then after a few minutes she blew her whistle and Harry was in the air.

It was mayhem with around two dozen first years trying to go after only five snitches. Harry's eyes never left his prize though as he dove, twisted and turned around the other students and finally caught the golden ball in his hand. His face lit up with so much joy he felt that his cheeks would split with the pressure his smile was putting on them.

He touched down and was congratulated by Madam Hooch. "Very good, Mr. Potter. Ten minutes is a very good time even for school level snitches."

Harry was joined next to Madam Hooch by Terry Boot, Hannah Abbot, Megan Jones and Michael Corner.

"Now I want you all to close your eyes and wait until the snitch is able to successfully disappear from sight. When I blow my whistle, you may open your eyes and start searching. And remember, whoever catches the snitch will be able to keep the school level snitch you caught earlier. Ready? Close your eyes."

Harry was instantly plunged into darkness when a happy though occurred to him. If he had so much fun with his flying senses competing with his visual sense, how much fun would it be if he truly felt like he had no limits and started flying with his eyes closed? Would the rush be even greater? Harry decided he would like to find out.

He heard the whistle and immediately mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground. He had never experienced a feeling such as flight with no sight! He felt himself, more than saw or knew, twirl, dip, turn, flip, and roll around in the air with his broom. He was shouting and laughing in happiness as he continued to feel like he was limitless when-

He started coughing. He stopped his broom, feeling more than noticing that he was upside-down, before he coughed out what seemed to be the professional level snitch.

His fellow Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws couldn't stop laughing at how the 'professional' level snitch got caught. Harry himself felt a giggle coming on as he remembered the ordeal. Capture-by-chokling was by far very original.

His good mood seemed to go on for the rest of the day as he met up with Wayne during Charms class and his housemates filled the boy in on what happened during the rest of the flying lesson. They pointed at Harrys pocket when Wayne looked at them incredulously.

"Look at Harry's pocket! He's got his snitch in there as his prize!" Justin told Wayne.

Harry pulled out his snitch and they watched as it lay peacefully on Harry's palm.

"Wow." Wayne exclaimed.

Charms class was coming in easier for Harry. He enjoyed learning the house-hold spells since they triggered the thought of him using them half way. In fact, he even called charms his Experiment class. He would use spells half way and see their effects. He would use the levitation charm to work half-way so that anything he would levitate would only fly a few inches, giving a false sense of weakness, before adding the last half which usually caused whatever he was levitating to ricochet to his desired target.

Potions, on the other hand, was very tedious. He liked the subject. Oh, how he loved working on his potions but he couldn't let himself be carried away in class. He was an enigma to his Professor and that was not a good thing. The MerVamp loved to discredit him and if it weren't for Wayne, his sort-of-friend- and-potions-partner, he would have been oozing green goo in each class.

Harry closed his bed hangings, covered himself in his blanket and levitated till his head hit the top of his canopy bed. He smiled as he went to sleep. After all, who ever said he had to sleep in his bed? He was born to be in the air.

He awoke many hours before his dorm mates. He got down and quickly did his morning routine. He fetched his bag with his books, parchment, quills and ink. He was ready for the day. He had been working on a side project, if you will, for a while now and as he went down to the kitchens to grab a pre-made Oatmeal-bacon toasty. He thanked the house-elf and left. It had been such a great day when he found the kitchens. He had always been curious about the portrait of the fruit bowl near his Common Room. It was far too large to be inconspicuous so he had decided that it had a great secret. His face was priceless as he took in the hundreds of little creatures cooking. They explained to him that he was in the Kitchens and that they were house elves. He had been coming there every morning for a pre-breakfast snack for nearly a week.

Harry smiled as he trotted on through the halls of Hogwarts. It was amazing how much energy was going through him, just by walking the halls.

His rule-breaking had been quiet for a while. His being upset with himself had taken a toll on his rule breaking but he was preparing himself... He had found the ultimate rule to break. And he smiled as he plopped down on his table at the library and researched.

He left his table, things and a piece of parchment while he searched for the books he needed.

Now, if anyone bothered to look at that little piece of paper he had left behind they would stare for at the top of that seemingly insignificant parchment was the heading: Steps to Beheading a Nearly Beheaded Ghost.


	6. WANTED: Colleagues, Test Subjects, and Un-Boring History Lessons

A young wizard by the name of Harry James Potter was twirling his Phoenix Feather wand between his fingers as he glared at a wall. It wasn't just any old wall. Harry was currently on the seventh floor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. To be more precise, he was currently glaring at the wall in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance ballet.

He knew something was wrong with this wall. It wasn't… dare he say it? _Normal_. It had a certain feel to it that the other walls didn't. You see, that was the secret of how Harry Potter never got lost. Each door, wall and corridor left him with very specific sensations on his arms. Some tickled him; which was how he found the doorknob to the kitchens, while some gave him goose bumps. The sensations differed from a slight prickly feeling on his wrist to a cool, menthol feeling on his fingertips.

Now, some might wonder what exactly Harry was doing glaring at said wall. Well, he was frustrated. He had already ransacked the Hogwarts Library for his latest conquest and he came up…short. He had searched all through Hogwarts, well the parts he knew he could explore anyway. He dared not enter the Professors private quarters, which included each of their private collections of books. Oh, he knew he could pull it off and not get caught but even he had to admit that he was slightly intimidated by more than a few professors. His absolute favourite Professor, however, surprised most of the people who asked. Professor Quirinus Quirrell, Professor of the Defense against the Dark Arts.

Harry had been fascinated with the Defense against the Dark Arts class since it seemed like the wizard counterpart of Taekwondo or Karate. He had always wanted to learn how to defend himself since Dudley was no stranger to rough housing and bullying. Harry Hunting was an on-going activity at the Dursley's Home, fun for ages 0-100.

Professor Quirrell's eye twitched; Harry thought it was funny. He stuttered everything he said; Harry could tell it was a fake and thought it a great way to prank students into reading the assigned material themselves. Most of all, Harry liked his turban. It gave off a strange feeling and often led to the prickling of his scar. Now, you might think it strange that Harry actually likes the prickling of his scar. However, after a talk with his head of house, he found the real origin of his famous scar. He wanted to kick himself for considering it just a normal part of his body. It was his very own version of a warriors mark and it reminded him that he survived. He was reminded that his parents loved him so much that they died for him. He liked being reminded of its presence every once in a while and a sure fire way to do so was to stare at his favourite Professor's turban.

Now back to the wall, Harry could tell that there was something beyond that wall. Maybe there was a special library or maybe a room of secrets? He didn't know exactly but he had a gut feeling that something was behind that wall and discovering it would not only lead to the success of his current project, but future projects he was planning to do. Not to mention the projects he had on hold.

He had already tried phasing through the wall but he then found himself almost a hundred feet off the ground. He knew that somehow, the room 'kicked him out' as quickly as he entered. If it weren't for his love of defying gravity, he probably would have busted his buttocks. After all, didn't experts say that the buttocks could cushion falls? He particularly liked his buttocks. It allowed him to sit down and do other necessary human things.

He was in a bit of a quandary. He was even contemplating just making a colossal hole in the wall. He sighed. In times such as these, there was only one way to get his creative mind working. Whenever he was stumped, he liked to walk upside down. His reason? No, it's not because his blood would then rush to his brain giving him a boost. It wasn't because it gave a new perspective on his surroundings. Though, those two actually were very good reasons he could use if any of his classmates ever found out about his upside-down walking. His real reason was because he found it funny when he made footprints on the ceiling. His Aunt never saw them since he only did it in his small cupboard and then, he did it rarely. But at Hogwarts? Weekly. He would stifle a laugh when people pointed to the footprints as they walked through corridors, wondering aloud whether the castle was playing host to some kind of new magical breed of gravity-defying lizard or even a half wizard-half flying animal that walked the halls at night. He found it hilarious. Though, he did get a little irritated when someone commented on how small the footprints were.

And so, Harry grinned as he begun to rise off the ground, he inverted himself, and felt his feet touch the ceiling. He laughed as he started walking back and forth in front of the wall. He kept thinking of how fun it would be to be able to actually let loose for a while. He had been stressed with his, so far, dead-end projects and still no word from the Marauders had been had.

He stopped in his tracks, however, when he felt a shift in the sensation that was once tickling his palm. Now, he felt it start to prick a bit and that usually accompanied a high energy level or power nearby. He turned his attention to the wall that seemed to want to mock him. Except… it wasn't a wall! Now, being just as upside down as he was, a grand door was innocently beckoning him. Harry grinned. This would be interesting indeed.

That day was a very productive Thursday. Harry had then returned to the secret room, or what he had dubbed the "Stuff Room", on a daily basis. He even preferred it over the library as it contained thousands of obscure books that he immediately dove into. But he did separate the books he knew he wouldn't be able to comprehend until he was bit more trained and was able to identify more concepts. His current project was going a bit slower than he had hoped but he was able to make significant progress especially after founding the stuff room.

His classes were going well. He made sure to be at the very least, top 25 percent of his class but was very careful to leave the top positions open. He didn't need to draw attention now, did he? And his fifteen-minute per table routine was turning out to be even more of an advantage than he ever imagined it to be. He was suddenly made aware of all the information he was privy to just by being at another house table for fifteen minutes. He was learning Wizard Etiquette with the Slytherins after they found out that he didn't know their ways. He learned about interesting concepts, often discussed around him by the Ravenclaws and a few of their older housemates even joined in once in a while. The Gryffindors were as happy-go-lucky as ever and that's where many of his prank ideas would form. His creative mind was on overdrive every time he was with Fred and George. His fellow Puffs were always there for him. He valued their hard work and unity when it came to defending one of their own. Wayne, in particular seemed to always be there when he needed him. They stuck together. He needed that sense of stability in his life and he wasn't ashamed to admit that the Dursley's never offered that to him growing up.

As he walked down the hallways of Hogwarts on a beautiful Thursday evening, exactly a week after founding the stuff room, he grinned at the portraits he passed. He was about to make a proposition to a certain… 'person' and he was excited. He had never had a test-subject that could speak before and he wondered what it would be like.

He made his way to the staircases but frowned as the one he needed shifted. He looked around and carefully started to jump off the landing. He walked down the walls, making an angle of ninety degrees, and whistled as he walked. He got to the landing he wanted to get into and started to walk towards what he had dubbed as the Ghost corridor. What a lot of the students didn't know was that the ghosts of Hogwarts usually haunted this particular corridor. It gave Harry a chilling sensation on his shoulder and that indicated that a certain magical bond or presence initiated them into doing so. He knew that the 'Person' he wanted to see would be there.

"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington! What a coincidence to run into you tonight!" Harry greeted exuberantly as he spotted his test subj- err… ghost of choice.

The nearly beheaded ghost stared at him for a bit before smiling as exuberantly as Harry.

"Why, hello there young Mr. Potter. What brings you here at this time of night? Not getting into trouble, I hope." The ghost replied cheerfully, his tunic with a ruff slightly getting out of place, allowing Harry to see a small piece of flesh that undoubtedly kept the ghost 'nearly beheaded'.

"Well, Sir Nicholas, I've got a proposition for you." Harry smiled. "But I reckon you need to ask the council first before you agree or disagree to it. I guarantee that you will never receive a proposition like the one I am offering so I caution you to think well about it and present it to the council the best way you can."

Sir Nicholas was a bit startled at first and Harry had laughed at the sputtering the ghost had done after the idea sunk in. Sir Nicholas was so excited and started thanking Harry profusely, to which Harry replied in the following way: 'I haven't even done anything yet!' Now all Harry had to do was await the Ghost Councils verdict. He had found a tome in the Stuff Room that described the politics of the ghost community and Harry had been thankful for finding it. He had no idea that a Ghost Council even existed until he read the tome. It said that when any ghost-related decisions were made, the Council had to convene to discuss a course of action, or in this case, approval or disapproval. Harry knew that agreeing to his proposition meant that if the project was to become successful, he would undoubtedly find a way to help or cause harm to ghosts which was in every way a threat to their community. He only hoped that they would trust him enough to keep the information to himself once the project was successful.

So Harry trotted along. He went to class and kept his routines. Oatmeal-bacon toasty was what he ate every morning, fifteen minutes per table was never disrupted, and he remained the top of the 25 percent of his class. Now, he did also do the occasional prank every now and then just to relieve his stress. Of course, the term 'occasional' can be considered a kind of _relative_ measure. Such as, Harry considered his pranking to only occur _relatively occasional_. After all, he had to test some of his spells on _someone_ , didn't he? Everything was reversible anyway... _so far._

Students now proceeded to class with caution. Ever since he had come into a random classroom during one of his late night escapades, word had spread the word that classrooms were not safe and even seventh years were seen performing scanning spells to the classrooms before entering. He didn't know what the big deal was. Students from that class certainly found out more about zoology than they originally would have and he thought he'd be a great help to society if they knew more about non-magical creatures and not just the magical type. Nothing motivated a student into studying more than trying to figure out what they had changed into so they could change back.

Harry had quickly found a way to hide his tricks though, so none were ever discovered before they took effect. Of course, he didn't know that merely being a first year had basically given him a whole years worth of 'free passes'. After all, how could a first year, new to magic, and the society in general, pull of pranks some sixth years were having trouble reversing? The Weasley twins, in particular, entered the great hall every morning after a prank was performed and congratulated the new prankster in loud voices. Most of the hall just laughed uncomfortably at them since they knew that Fred and George were actually calling the new prankster out. They wanted a prank war and the rest of the Hogwarts population was very thankful that the new prankster had not replied. Though, with the teachers were on a manhunt to find said prankster, it was committing suicide to reply to a call out during breakfast.

Harry stifled a laugh as the third year Hufflepuff and Slytherin students made their way to lunch on Friday with purple polka dotted yellow feathers on their skins and blue beaks for noses. Of course, the purple roosters wattle hanging down their chins didn't help them any. He had also rigged their pumpkin juice and the effects should-

"SQUAAAWWK!' A third year Slytherin squawked after taking a large gulp of pumpkin juice. Harry smiled. Being friends with the little creatures in the Kitchen was greater fun than he could have ever imagined.

What followed was a series of clucking and squawking third years trying to communicate to their housemates about what was going on. Madame Pomfrey sighed as she got up and announced, "All third year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins please report to the Hospital Wing immediately. Let's get you lot un-clucked."

When the current victims left, the great hall erupted into laughter. It was now becoming a rule to the students never to laugh at the people pranked in front of them. It was incredibly embarrassing so they all agreed to laugh once the victims were out of sight and earshot. The victims didn't know what was worse, for them to _see and hear_ people laugh at them or for them to just _know_ that people were laughing at them. Every student knew that they would inevitably be pranked or already was pranked so this rule remained true.

Harry, though, lay off the Weasley twins, therefore leaving their classmates alone as well, and the first years. He thought that he had already pranked the first years, and besides, he'd have to prank himself if he ever did prank the first years. Pranking the Weasley twins was like evoking the wrath of Hogwarts current, but was now being challenged, Prank Kings. Of course, he did intend to prank them. Just not right now. He was planning something… _special_ for his two friends.

He was also very nervous for the coming night. Sir Nicholas had spoken to him after Transfiguration and had informed him that he was to present the case himself in front of the council since they wanted to meet him and see if there was even a possibility of being able to be successful with the project. They didn't want Sir Nicholas to hope for nothing.

Harry had then poured over the few remaining scrolls and tomes he had about ghosts, spending little time away from the Stuff room. He only left for meals and classes.

His best subject was Charms. Professor Flitwick had even come to speak with him after class about the experiments he performed. Of course, Professor Flitwick saw maybe ten percent of the experiments he was actually performing. The small professor found his ideas enlightening and telling Harry he had a very hyper active imagination and that if he studied well enough, maybe he would be able to create spells that would perform the experiments he wanted. Harry was flattered but felt rather downtrodden when the Professor informed him that he would only be able to create, and publish spells legally if he was part of the Ministry of Magic after graduation. Harry didn't like working for anyone but himself. It might sound selfish but he didn't know what exactly the ministry was or what they did. It would be foolish to align himself to them so quickly.

That afternoon Charms class had proven useful as they learned something called the 'Hair Color Change Charm'. Since the 'new pranker' used that particular spell in a lot of his pranks, Professor Flitwick thought it practical to teach the students to change their hair color back to the way it was through his classes. Harry of course, already knew how to perform the spell but he had not done it with his Phoenix wand before.

You see, if you recall, Harry had two wands. His phoenix wand was what he had used for classes and the one registered by the ministry and the school while his other wand, since it was so old and old, was not registered by any organization so he used it for pranks and experiments. He had taken to calling that particular wand James, after his father. He had discovered that the wood in his fathers' wand was the same as that wand, Mahogany, and he thought it appropriate.

He had read some scrolls on wand making and was curious as to the components of James. The only way to do so, though, was to dismantle it and he was unsure if he could do so. He was going back to Ollivanders with the scrolls that summer though, just to satisfy his curiosity.

His phoenix wand was a bit more temperamental with him since it seemed a bit incomplete in his hand. James on the other hand, though still had that incomplete feeling, would cooperate when he did his pranks and experiments. Hiding his true potential and intellectual mind was easier with a wand that fought with him every step of the way. Of course, he did still practice without any of his wands when he didn't feel like holding a wand at the time. He didn't like swishing a wand to do magic when he could do so with just a flick of his wrist. He had to concede that he had observed that the wand had helped regulate power in his spells, letting him cast more spells than he would have without a wand.

His Potions class was not a very interesting class. Harry had been paired with Ravenclaw Anthony Goldstein. Anthony hated potions. But he proved himself a Ravenclaw by memorizing the ingredients, procedure, and reactions by heart. So Harry had the wonderful task of actually making the potion as Anthony recited the ingredients and procedure. Harry didn't mind since he liked making potions but the class was rather dull. Until Wayne dropped in an incorrect ingredient which caused the potion he was working on with Su Li to fume a sickly orange fog, inhaled by them both. They sprouted branches and leaves all over their arms and face. Wayne had sprouted a long branch on his nose with matching leaves and even a birds' nest. Harry was immediately reminded of Pinocchio. Class was suspended after that incident as the potion had contaminated the air, so MerVamp immediately placed a bubble-head charm on each of the students.

Harry had skipped along merrily to the Stuff room, collecting the scrolls he needed and passing by his dormitory to leave his books for class. He then went straight to the corridor from Professor Binns' classroom, in the direction of the marble staircase. This was Ghosts Corridor.

Harry shivered as he felt a chill from his middle finger going towards his shoulder. He knew he was at the right place. He faced a painting of a man playing a saw and said, "Ghost Council Headquarters". The password was not really hard to decipher but then again, most people didn't even know there was such a thing as a Ghost Council, let alone Headquarters for it.

The portrait dissolved, leaving a blank frame. Harry walked through it and found himself floating above the ground but not by his own devices. The room was large, maybe half of the great hall, and was filled with ghosts from all around Hogwarts and some were from other places as well. They were all seated on ghost like chairs which made Harry had to smirk at. At his immediate eyesight though, Sir Nicholas was beckoning him to a very solid looking chair.

Harry greeted him and sat down. The highest seats were being occupied by the House Ghosts. Sir Nicholas had floated away from him and sat down to the right-most ghostly high-chair. Beside him was the Fat Friar who was a jolly fellow. He smiled at Harry and even went as far as offering a little wave. Harry waved back, albeit a little less enthusiastic. The Grey lady sat beside the Fat Friar and was eyeing Harry with a bit more of curiosity than the look of the Bloody Baron that was outright telling him that he was not trusted.

The Grey Lady stood then spoke to Harry and the crowd of ghosts. "Harry James Potter, we have accepted your request to appear before us today out of respect and good will to our fellow council member, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington. You have the floor."

Harry cleared his throat, stood, and smiled at them all.

"It has come to my attention that Sir Nicholas has been rather nearly-beheaded for quite some time. After some study, I was able to formulate a theory that would allow myself to sever the remaining flesh that keeps Sir Nicholas nearly beheaded. I propose to cut off his head and let him enjoy the eternity of his ghost-life completely beheaded and happy." He smiled.

The entire room broke out in whispers. He heard the Bloody Baron sneer at him and Edgar Clogg, the Quidditch Ghost, exclaim the word 'Impossible!' over and over again.

"How do you propose to do this?" One of the ghosts that did not reside at Hogwarts asked.

Harry took out James from his pocket and said, "Using my wand of course!"

Even though they were ghosts, he couldn't let them know he could perform magic without a wand.

"That is impossible Mister Potter. Ghosts are not affected by spells and curses." The Bloody Baron said, his eyes boring into Harry's.

"Before I explain, I need you all to take the Apparitional Oath to never speak of what I am about to say." Harry told them. There were some murmurs of protest but they all took the oath, for ghosts, breaking the apparitional oath meant that they would lose their right to 'haunt' the certain place they stayed and would be taken to a cavern a hundred feet below ground. The myth was that Lucifer himself was there, waiting for lost souls and ghostly traitors.

"I have come across an ability that has since been passed to very few living beings. After extensive research into the Ghost Council itself, I have come to find that in the beginning a living human being had found the council. With its founding, this human being also created all things that you see around you: the chairs, the tables, the desks, the enchanted candles that may give you a slight feeling of warmth. He has long since moved on and the original founding council has moved on as well. I bet the oldest ghost here can't have been around for longer than 800 years. That was way past the founding and was around the time necromancy was banned. Well, I have been experimenting and am confident that I can create ghost-weapons. Or ghost-things such as those chairs you are seated on right now. I only ask permission to start experimentation with the help of Council member Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington."

The utter silence in the room was expected. So Harry just stared at each and every one of them. His very solid chair started to levitate. It started with the lower level seated ghosts. He stared into each and every one of their unseeing eyes. He continued to stare into each ghost, literally staring _into_ them, going higher and higher until he was staring at the Hogwarts Ghosts. Apparently the Bloody Baron could look quite amusing.

After acquiring one test subject, Harry walked purposefully down the corridors in a perpetually good mood. Sure, it had come to a _very_ close vote of 13-15. Many ghosts looked like they knew _exactly_ who they would dismember first if he was able to create those dead-alive weapons. Such weapons could spell physical interaction of ghosts and alives but the implications that would spring from such a weapon were lost on Harry even as the Bloody Baron tried to impress it on him. All he knew was that he now had a ghost to experiment with. He grinned a rather feral 'I-can-now-do-things-to-you-after-you-stupidly-gave-me-your-consent' type of grin. If the students of Hogwarts ever saw the look on his face, some would run away screaming but all would agree that it was creepiest smile they had ever seen.

Absently, he checked his watch and found that the meeting had gone longer than he expected and headed towards breakfast. Maybe ghosts were more solid during night? Oh well. Who was he to question their meeting hours? He was not a member of the council. And if he did decide to one day sign-up, he was a good long ways off.

He plopped himself down on the Hufflepuff table and quickly started making his breakfast of choice. He munched on it while he watched his housemates interact with each other. He noticed a bright package being brought to a Neville Longbottom of Gryffindor. The Gryffindor boy was explaining that the sphere was a Remembrall and it would turn red to remind the owner if he/she had forgotten something. Immediately, the small ball turned red. Ah yes, it was Gryffindor-Slytherin day for flying lessons. Harry ignored the Gryffindor table and looked up at the owls, an idea already forming on his mind for the one hiccup that caused him all too much grief at Hogwarts. Well, the one thing he could do something about at the moment anyway. And this idea was relatively very simple and hassle-free. Hmm..

He bid farewell to his housemates and made his way to the owelry. He navigated through secret passages, moving staircases, and turned invisible at areas where the portraits were all too generous in speaking their thoughts on your behaviour and fashion-choices. He climbed the winding staircase leading to the owelry.

He quickly found his snowy white owl and she descended, landing on his shoulder.

"Oh yeah... I haven't named you yet, have I?" he asked her.

She gave him a negative hoot.

"Well... what about naming you Hedwig? It's the only name I remember from Professor Binns droning."

She nipped his ear affectionately.

"Okay then. Hullo Hedwig. I would like to send a letter. It won't be a long journey. The recipients are in the castle. So it won't be such an arduous task. Let me just write it up."

He quickly pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket and cut it up to four pieces. He distinctly remembered having heard there were four members of the group and so, he began to pen his letter.

_To the Marauders._


	7. Halloween Headways

If there was one flaw that could be found about young Harry Potter, it was that he got bored rather easily. That was the reason he had so many projects going on at the same time. As he made any leeway in any of his projects, he quickly grew bored of it and shifted his attention to another of his many enterprises.

As it was, Harry was quickly growing restless at the little progress he made with Sir Nicholas. Hedwig, who he had sent with letters to the Marauders, was also nowhere to be found. He was proud of himself for making a dent in the number of rules he had already broken in the student charter, but he still craved that exhilaration he felt when he started on new projects or when he made a large headway in any of his difficult ones.

"Harry!" Wayne greeted as he took the seat next to him on the Hufflepuff Common Room couches.

He turned to the boy who seemed to be very persistent in creating a bond of friendship with him.

"Yes?"

"You're bored out of your mind, aren't you?" the taller boy asked, his dark eyes lit with amusement.

"Why, yes. I am. Now if you don't mind, I shall continue staring at the fire. Surely a more entertaining enterprise will pop into my mind sooner or later." he told his sort-of-friend and turned back to the roaring fire.

"Well, when I'm bored I play exploding snap with my brother. Want to try a game?" Wayne asked while holding up a deck of cards.

Harry suddenly felt a jolt whiz through his body. He turned to Wayne, his eyes wide, and said, "A game?"

Wayne nodded, more enthusiastically than Harry had seen him. Wayne started shuffling the deck of cards and explaining the rules to Harry in great detail.

The two boys ended up playing 23 rounds of exploding snap, Harry discovered that he was quite good at playing the game and wondered what other games he could be good at. See, even as a child, Harry rarely played what children interpreted as 'games'. Or at least he never really called them that. They were projects, things to accomplish. If its end purpose was to provide him entertainment of any sort, like a game would, he never really associated the two ideas. Games were the sort such as 'Harry Hunting' where he defended himself rather than 'played'. Projects were those that consumed most of his time and really just killed boredom while providing him with a good laugh afterward. With such a simple beginning, Wayne Hopkins had inadvertently woken the inner gamer found within young Harry. Of course, Wayne would realize too late that this was not entirely a good thing. Especially, as Hogwarts was also soon to see, was it a bad idea to introduce Harry to the concept of games on day of Hallows Eve.

"Mr. Potter!" a voice called to Harry as he was making his way to his favorite class: Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Harry turned to find the Nearly-headless ghost gliding towards him.

"Good day, Sir Nicholas." Harry greeted, bowing as he did so.

Sir Nicholas looked particularly excited at seeing him. "Is there any progress in line of that project you approached me about? I would very much like to schedule a time we could practice your methods."

Harry frowned. "I haven't made much leeway other than what I presented to the council. I was able to create a whiff of a flame on a real candle but it quickly died out. But I am confident to find my niche in it soon."

Sir Nicholas frowned but his spirits, pardon the pun, didn't die down. "I beg your pardon, I am just so intrigued and enlivened by your proposition that I forget that you are merely a student and only a first year. I shall leave you to your duties, but call for me anytime you need a hand or if you feel ready to start the experimentation."

The Gryffindor ghost bowed to him one last time before disappearing off to some other corridor.

"Wh-wha-what wa-as tha-that a-a-about, Mr. P-p-p-potter?"

Harry turned again and found his favorite Professor ushering him into the Defense classroom.

He smiled at the Professor and said nothing, merely entering the room while taking a glance at his Professors turban. Right on cue, his scar prickled and his smile grew wider. Defense that day merely consisted of Professor Quirrell stuttering out the paragraphs on seemingly random defense spells from their books and more than half the class sleeping the hour away.

After half an hour had passed in the Defense room, Harry suddenly found himself having another bout of boredom. He turned to his right and found Wayne snoozing soundlessly. Peeking from a pocket of Wayne's satchel, however, was a deck of cards.

Those who remained awake and were trying their best to take any amount of knowledge from their stuttering Professor did not notice when their classmate started to levitate Wayne Hopkins exploding snap cards out of the satchel, duplicated the deck, and levitated the original deck back into the pocket while taking only ten of the exploding cards out of the copied deck. The rest of the copied deck disappeared and young Harry started to reminisce of the time he was allowed to watch a classmate in his non-magical school play a simple game on a school computer.

The Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw class was dismissed just in time for them to have a fifteen minute bathroom and rest break before the Ravenclaws went to have History of Magic with the Slytherins and the Hufflepuffs would have Charms with the Gryffindors. Harry wasted no time in packing up his things and heading to the Charms corridor early. As predicted, the Charms Professor was still in his office doing last minute preparations and the classroom was empty. Quickly rearranging the desks, planting the cards, and casting a few spells with James, Harry left the Charms classroom and was back in the Defense corridor before Wayne could wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth.

"Ready for Charms?" he said innocently to his fellow Puff.

Wayne yawned, stood, then picked up his satchel. "Let's head to the loo for a bit. I need to wake myself up with some water."

After a detour to the boys loo, the two Hufflepuffs joined their Charms classmates wait outside their Charms classroom.

"What's taking so long? Why can't we go inside?" A Gryffindor girl he remembered was named Granger was grumbling outside the door. Naturally, she was first in line to enter the room.

Harry turned to Wayne who shrugged and the two stood at the back of the line of students waiting to enter.

"Why are you all waiting here?" a tiny voice spoke as it approached the assembled students.

"The door was locked." Granger supplied to their Professor.

Professor Flitwick looked surprised before waving his wand in front of the door handle. "After you, Ms. Granger.", he smiled at the Gryffindor girl.

Granger flushed then entered the room. The door immediately closed after her and the assembled students quickly heard her shriek.

"What happened to the Charms classroom?!"

This time, Professor Flitwicks jovial mode had disappeared. He quickly opened the door and entered, only to have it close again. The remaining first years all started to get worried. This unusual behavior could only mean one thing: the unknown pranker had pranked the room.

"He left first years alone but it seems like he's coming after us now!" Ron Weasley, another Gryffindor squeeked. He looked utterly terrified since he was just after Granger in line to enter.

"Students!" they all heard Professor Flitwicks voice from within the room. "Just enter one-by-one. It seems we have an additional ten desks and the arrangement of the desks are slightly different that it was before. Other than that, there is no need to worry. It is still the same Charms classroom you entered yesterday!"

Ron Weasley turned to his fellow Gryffindors, and with a serious face said to them, "We we're sorted into Gryffindor for a reason. This is it, gents and..err.. girls. Let's show that prankster that we can take it just like any other sixth year!"

"You mean crying and trying to find the counter-curse in the library while rocking back and forth?" Seamus Finnigan supplied.

Harry visibly blanched. Is that how some of his pranks were received?

Ron glared at his friend and opened the door.

After a few tense minutes, they heard his voice. "Oi! It's alright. Granger and I just have these numbers floating above our heads! You get one after you sit down! I've got a three and she has a one!"

One by one, each of his classmates entered the room and had the door close right behind them. They each chose a desk and shouted out their numbers to the person going in after them.

Rapidly, the Charms corridor began to empty until only Harry, Neville and Wayne were outside. They turned to each other.

"Well, you might as well go first. If you hadn't woken me up, I would have arrived last anyway." Wayne smiled as he turned to Harry.

Neville remained silent and stared at his shoes. It was obvious that the Gryffindor boy was nervous, which was why he kept putting his turn off and letting the other students go in first.

Harry nodded and patted Wayne on the back. It had become increasingly difficult in keeping a straight face as each of his other classmates had entered and he couldn't believe the luck they had so far. He remembered his muggle classmate losing to this game quite often and fairly quickly. Maybe he didn't do it right?

He turned to look at his surroundings and couldn't help but smile. All of his classmates had numbers floating above their heads. There were those with blue colored ones, green colored twos, red colored threes, and dark blue colored fours floating above their heads. Professor Flitwick had a green two above his head as well as he was sitting in the front row, center desk.

Harry quickly sat down on the desk that was next to Hermione Granger who had a blue one on top of her head. She was sitting at the front row, one seat off from the very right end of the row and Parvati Patil, who also had a blue one, was seated right behind her. Lavander Brown to the immediate right of Parvati and also had a blue one.

"Wayne, it's alright! Come inside!" Harry bellowed.

Wayne stepped into the classroom and looked inquisitively at all the colorful numbers on top of everyones heads.

"What is this?" he asked to no one in particular.

Harry couldn't help but grin when Wayne seemed to choose the unclaimed seat next to Hannah Abbot who spotted a green two on top of her head. That left the only seat anywhere near the other Gryffindors to be the vacant one next to Dean Thomas who had a large, red, number three on top of his head.

Wayne hollered at Neville that it was safe. The Gryffindor boy entered the room and bit his lip. As Harry expected, he moved towards the only available desk near another Gryffindor.

Just as Neville was sitting down, Hermione Granger suddenly proclaimed, "Wait. I know what this is!"

The entire Charms Corridor, the adjacent Defense Corridor, and the Transfiguration Corridor just below the Charms one, shook as the 'mine' on Neville's desk exploded, triggering the explosion of the nine other 'mines' hidden among the desks of the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff first year Charms class.

Harry, covered in soot and burnt up pieces of parchment couldn't help but smile at the now empty Charms classroom his classmates and Professor had vacated. It was completely empty.

' _Minesweeper, indeed.'_

The prank on the First year Charms class spread like wildfire and every step students took, seemed more cautious than before. Even Fred and George looked a bit more cautious as they swirled their pumpkin juice around their goblets first, taking a good whiff, then sipping it slowly instead of just gulping it down like they usually did.

It was the Halloween Feast and the mood was far from festive. With the students eating so cautiously and the Professors discussing various ways on how to capture the perpetrator of the various pranks, young Harry found himself once again bored.

He felt a slight tinge of guilt that he hadn't really exerted a single brain cell into trying to figure out Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Propington's problem, but it was Halloween. And after discovering the personal significance of the day, he raised a glass, toasted to his parents, and finished the contents of his goblet in one gulp. Wayne and a few other students followed suit but sipped their juice instead of gulping it down.

Harry gave up. There was no fun to be had in the Great Hall that night. Besides, the students never even took a second glance at the pumpkin pies. It was those that he rigged to explode the minute a sequence of ten people stood up from each table. He excused himself from the Hufflepuff table and left the boring hall.

Yawning, he started to wander the Hogwarts corridors. As every bout of boredom he had ever encountered in his life, he knew that this would end as soon as it began. And this bout ended when he saw a box of cleaning materials left by the caretaker on one of the abandoned corridors in the castle. Inside this box was a spray bottle with a picture of a white petal'd flower.

'Hmm..'

It had always been a game he had wanted to play for a while now and he knew that this was a one-player game.

He glanced around to make sure no one was watching him as he closed his eyes and conjured several levitating boxes with a brick pattern painted on them. Then he conjured what looked to be large green pipes, walking mushrooms, and turtles who stood on two feet.

Smiling, Harry Potter played his first ever game of Super Harry.

Jumping over an incoming mushroom, he found himself on top of one of the pipes. He jumped again and he landed on top of one of the boxes. He jumped in place and his head hit an invisible box. A glowing flower bloomed from on top of it and he jumped again to trigger its blaster power.

He jumped onto another pipe and crouched down, phasing through the floor to move one floor below where he was. He fell to the stone floor and smiled as about twenty gold coins bigger than his head floated in front of him. Jumping his way through all the coins and collecting them, he crouched down on another pipe that brought him right back to the floor above. Phasing through the castle floors or levitating up before phasing through the ceiling was way more easy than forcing himself to teleport around the castle. Sure, the distance it could bring him was rather short but it far outweighed the energy he spent trying to teleport. He now had a new means of transportation in the magical castle, and he was about to abuse the knowledge tremendously in his new game.

That was how young Harry spent the next hour of his time. Dodging, crushing, and blasting mushrooms as he jumped, ran, and laughed his way through his game. Of course, he banished and erased all evidence of his game every time he passed them, making it impossible for him to go 'backwards' in the game.

A deep rumble suddenly stopped him in his tracks just as he was about to blast another turtle. He couldn't help but grin even wider when he remembered his pumpkin pies. What he didn't expect, however, was the screams that followed long after his pumpkins exploded followed by a sudden silence that he did not like the sound of.

Waving James one last time, the boxes, turtles, pipes, and mushrooms vanished. Making himself invisible, he started to jump, skip, and slide the various corridors he had passed during his game. He was surprised to come across Ron Weasley and Seamus Finnigan on a corridor near the Transfiguration classroom.

"Are you sure she's in this loo? We've checked around four!" whined Finnigan.

Weasley shushed him. "I'm sure. No one's seen her since Transfiguration so she's probably in the loo closest to here."

Intrigued, Harry decided to follow his two Gryffindor classmates to see what they were up to. After all, he felt another bout of boredom creeping on.

The two Gryffindors were nowhere near covert in their traipsing around the Transfiguration Corridor but Harry discovered that his training in secrecy paid off. After all, he was able to enter random rooms, make some revisions to their state, and come back out fast and silent. So much so that the two people he was following didn't even notice.

His boredom, however, flew out the window the second he saw a huge walking Troll in their immediate vicinity. It was entering a loo and Harry could only stare bug-eyed as the two Gryffindors waited for it to completely enter before locking the troll inside. Taking a glance at the sign on the door, he noticed it was a girls loo. The two Gryffindors must have noticed this as well since they turned to each other and shouted, "Hermione!"

The two Gryffindor boys rushed inside the loo, leaving Harry all by himself in the corridor. Suddenly imagining himself once again playing Super Harry, the young Potter grinned. The Ultimate Boss level provided itself to him without nearly the effort he thought he would need to create it. It was like a dream come true. Not only that, but the two Gryffindors even provided him with two hostages and a princess to save!

Pulling his transfigured plumber hat down, and snapping his jumper straps, he entered the girls loo. The sight that greeted him wasn't a pretty one. The two Gryffindors had their backs to him and Granger was passed out near one of the stalls. None of them looked seriously hurt but the Troll had already destroyed two stalls and one sink. Water covered the entire bathroom floor.

Whispering a spell to make the two Gryffindor boys fall asleep, then surreptitiously moving them to a relatively 'safe' bathroom corner, Harry quickly conjured boxes, turtles, mushrooms, venus-trap plants, green pipes, and a large star with eyes on top of the trolls head.

Cracking his knuckles, and stretching his limbs, he smiled at the troll.

"Hello, beautiful."

The troll screamed in rage and quickly landed a fatal blow in the spot Harry occupied mere seconds before. Luckily, Harry had already run towards the first set of boxes and was quickly collecting the coins by hitting his head on the boxes.

The way he had set up the game was in such a way that the boxes surrounded the troll, effectively trapping it within the invisible cylinder of activity. The troll roared once more before trying to smash its club into the boxes Harry had just collected coins from. It had just gone right through the boxes, as if the boxes were made out of some ghost material. And as simple as that, there it was: his niche in ghost product development.

Ignoring his breakthrough for the time being, he continued his game. Harry quickly gathered a flower and was busy blasting the mushrooms and turtles coming at him as the Troll continued to try and hit him with its club. However, when a near grazing hit was delivered to him, he turned and blasted the club, making it leap from the trolls hands and land right on top of an empty toilet stall near the front of the bathroom. The troll became even more enraged and tried with all its might to catch Harry with its bare hands to squish him to death. But the game was called Super Harry and he did his best to live up to the name.

Conjuring a small castle around Hermione to make sure none of the debris would harm her, Harry continued on his way through the game. The levels getting higher as he magically lifted the game a meter every time he leveled up.

The troll, completely confused by the colorful boxes, turtles, mushrooms, and pipes as well as the oddly upbeat music, started to whack at the nearby sinks, flooding the bathroom even more. Harry simply went into the bonus round, going back to the ground level and making a hole in the floor while collecting his coins. If the hole went directly into one of the potions labs, it wasn't his fault. After all, he was only trying to save his classmates from drowning on sink and toilet water.

Jumping over another mushroom, Harry was collecting another coin when he got an idea. Every time he got a pass at the Troll, he would use his blasting power to hit it. The only thing the troll could do was roar then look around confusedly as Harry started running around it then turning back and running the opposite direction. Soon, the troll got so confused that it fell straight down, its head going into a toilet bowl. Its club flew straight in the air from the impact and landed on its head in a crushing blow.

Harry jumped one last time, collecting the star with eyes on top of the trolls head. Now there were many stars circling the Trolls head and he couldn't help but laugh. Heading towards where Hermione Granger was, he entered the small castle and 'rescued' her.

Seeing as she was still knocked out cold, he sighed then banished all his game components away. He placed Weasley and Finnigan at the entrance again of the loo with their wands in their hands before he left. Conjuring another pumpkin pie, he placed it on the floor infront of the door of the loo. Walking away, he started to wonder about Hedwig. He hoped she came back with a reply.

As he was turning a corner, the pie exploded. Soon, shouts of "Bloody Hell!" was heard as all traces of the pie vanished. All in all, Harry counted it as a fun Halloween.


	8. Of Goal Posts and Owl Posts

The resonating sound of students gossiping and laughing throughout the castle was one of the sounds which Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore cherished the most. At the moment, he was seated at the Head table of the Great Hall as students continued their meal in not-so-silence. It was his morning routine to watch his pupils and savor the youth they exuded. It, in his own words, kept him young. His gaze lingered, however, on one particular student on the Hufflepuff table. The young man was seated alone and seemed to be devouring a sandwich of dubious origins, the house elves certainly hadn't made that sandwich.

Young Mister Potter was a mystery in himself. As he sat munching on his sandwich, Albus contemplated the accounts of his staff concerning the boy-who-lived.

_'Just as asinine and as much of a ruffian as his Father.'_

_'Very eager to learn certain aspects but seems to be holding back. May be a result of his muggle upbringing? They were the worst sort of muggles I had ever seen, Albus! I knew we should not have left him there.'_

_'A happy child. Always laughing and smiling in my class. However, he seems to take great joy in standing next to me for some reason or the other. Either way, I'm glad he seems to inherit Lily's talent in my subject.'_

So far, he was in average to above-average standing in all his classes but did not show any particular talent in any. James always excelled in Transfiguration, while Lily was easily above her peers in Charms and Potions. Sadly, his parents high standing with their class did not translate to their son. Albus contemplated holding a nature versus nurture debate with his most trusted staff to further his little musings.

There was one thing clear about the young Potter, however: he seemed to attract as much trouble as his Father ever had. Being targeted by the first year prank by the mysterious prankster was not Albus' ideal first meeting with the boy, alas he had no choice. After discerning that the child didn't seem any worse for wear, he sent him back to the Hufflepuff common room with pockets full of lemon drop candies.

Albus took one last long look at the boy-who-lived, then turned to Minerva in order to discuss if she found any potential transfiguration students she was thinking of taking as an apprentice from the seventh years that year.

Harry Potter, the boy being regarded so intensely by the headmaster only moments ago, was happily munching on that mornings oatmeal-bacon-toasty. He merely smiled at his fellow first year Hufflepuffs as they discussed that days Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match. They had gotten used to his silence, noticing he only spoke when spoken to and if he was in a particularly sociable mood. The only one who never failed in trying to get Harry to be more sociable was Wayne.

"Are you coming to the match, Harry?" Wayne asked him, while munching on his own oatmeal-bacon-toasty. Seeing Harry always eating one made him curious to its taste and now came to copying Harry's sandwich making methods at least once a week.

Harry munched on his sandwich thoughtfully for a minute before nodding. "Ought to be interesting. I haven't played many wizard games before. I've only ever played Exploding Snap."

Wayne grinned an oatmeal-y grin. "It'll be brilliant. There's a long standing Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry, do you know? I heard Quidditch is the only way they let their frustrations out on each other!"

Cedric Diggory leaned towards them and added his two cents. "Even the professors participate. There's nothing like a Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match. The atmosphere is so tense, it'll seem a bit suffocating at first. But then it explodes into cheers and jeers during the match! Always something firsties should experience. It's the only match the entire student body catches, regardless of house."

Harry just nodded at them all. He wasn't playing so he did not feel the excitement that came over him when he was playing his Halloween frolics. He ate the final bite of his sandwich and stood.

"I'm just going to check on Hedwig. I haven't seen her for a week now."

"She still hasn't shown up? Where on earth did you send her to?" Wayne asked before taking a sip from his goblet.

"Maybe the people I had written to are taking their time to reply. I told her to wait for a response from at least one of them." Harry shrugged.

Cedric stood as well, "The match is going to start before lunch but you better head to the stands now. You can check up on her after. Finding good seats for this game is going to be a pain. You firsties better take the front seats, if you can manage. I can't promise that you won't be seated behind a tall fellow or two if you lollygag."

Harry sighed and waited for Wayne to stand. The rest of the Hufflepuffs grabbed their last bites and all stood, hoping to all get at least semi-decent seats.

One thing that made Harry happy with all the Quidditch talk was that everyone seemed to forget about the mysterious defeat of the Trespassing Troll from Halloween. The story that the three Gryffindors were telling was that Hermione Granger had gone after the Troll and the Weasley-Finnigan duo went after her. All three had agreed that they had been knocked out at some point and awoke with the Troll with his head 'resting' on a broken toilet. Gryffindor lost a total of five points for that, and Snape had been crabbier than usual since the incident.

With the rest of the Hufflepuff first years, and one fourth year, trailing behind him, he headed towards the Quidditch stands at the Hufflepuff section. Luckily, they were able to get seats at the third row. The second years seemingly sent a volunteer to grab bits of toast while the rest skipped breakfast had taken the first two rows of the stands.

Harry couldn't help but find himself getting a bit more excited than he thought he would be. The tense atmosphere was indeed palpable and the Hufflepuff stands were situated right between the Gryffindor and Slytherin ones, placing them at the ideal hearing range for cheers and jeers of both sides towards each other.

Many of the students, except for the Gryffindors and Slytherins, brought books or homework with them. It seemed that early attendance was a must, however the hour long wait was time otherwise wasted. Harry tried to look around at the sky to spot a particular snowy owl in the hopes that maybe she was finally flying home.

"I just don't get this! How are we supposed to change a needle back into a match? I had trouble making it want to stay a needle in the first place!" Wayne muttered miserably as he continued to read the required chapter for Transfiguration.

"It's not more of undoing the change, but of causing another one. McGonagall knows when you just cast a _finite_ at transfigured objects. This is kind of like practice in layering more than one spell on an object. See, if you do the second transfiguration right, a you cast a _finite_ at it, it turns back to a needle first. A second _finite_ will give you the original match." Cedric explained.

Harry turned his eyes away from the sky and focused on the discussion between his two housemates. Layering spells was one thing he hadn't really heard of before. He had done multiple charms on various objects and persons but layering them to be one full enchantment seemed fascinating.

"But why layer? What's the point of layering of spells?" Wayne asked.

Cedric scratched his head a bit before answering. "Well, some spells are magnified in the presence of another spell. Take the broomsticks. Notice the cushioning charm on the seat? It would be only half as effective without the hovering potion and speed charms on the broom. It's a nasty bit of Arithmancy to figure out all the numbers to it, that's why new brooms take about a year or two to create. Got to go through all the numbers, test it, then release it to the public. Also why homemade brooms are rare."

Only one word really mattered to little Harry in Cedric's entire drabble.

"Arithmancy can create and predict the effects of spells and potions in relation to each other?" Harry asked Cedric, his eyes gleaming a bit more madly.

Cedric almost jumped a foot in the air when Harry spoke. He hadn't realized that Harry was listening.

"Yes, and Ancient Runes can help in the creation of trigger words for spell creation too. The power of language over magic is apparently quite significant. A possible reason why some spells are in latin, gaelic, or other. I even heard of some spells being tested in plain English having either enhanced or reduced effects."

Harry remembered skimming through both subjects during his few weeks of Magic Cram at the Dursleys. These subjects were about to take a large chunk of his study time if all the ideal rule-breaking exploits were to come into fruition.

Cedric mussed up Harry's already messy hair when he saw the maniacal twinkle in the younger boy's eyes. "You have to wait until third year to study those though. I suggest choosing them for your electives if you're still interested then. I do warn you, they both hold the highest drop out rates of all the electives. Only the really brainy fellows stay on there or just take one and an easier elective."

Harry absent-mindedly nodded. He was already thinking of all the possible layering and connecting and _creating_ of spells he could do. None of the books he had bought on either subject had said a word about them being compatible as well as complementary to each other. The fact that this union of two subjects could also predict and _guide_ the effect of magic in ways he could finally quantify... well, his curious and excitable brain could not wait to return to the dormitory in order to further his knowledge on both subjects.

"That's all well and good," Wayne interjected, "but how does that help me cast a multiple transfiguration on this bloody match-needle-match watchamacallit?"

Cedric laughed and started the explain the process once again, going painstakingly slow for each step of the process as he demonstrated for Wayne. Harry, however, was already in his own dream world, calculations the like of which Cedric would not be able to make heads or tails of, already going through his enlivened encephalon.

Of course, what good would a good ol' theory be if it was not tested? Being quite vertically challenged helped him escape the crowd, muttering to Wayne and Cedric he was heading to the loo, and finding a dark corner where he once again wished himself invisible.

Now, if anyone knew of any of little Harry's walking excursions and the results of these.. small side-trips, they would have automatically turned around and missed the most anticipated Hogwarts Quidditch game of the year. Harry decided to take a walk around the pitch and the stands, phasing through troublesome walls and flying up stairs to conserve time. After all, it wouldn't do for him to be found missing for too long.

He walked back towards his seat with a large smile on his face and a skip to his step.

Wayne merely rose an eyebrow at him, "a good trip to the loo, then?"

Harry's grin widened, "Especially good."

Wayne's expression was between one of disgust and amusement.

"It's about to begin." Cedric told them.

Perfect timing, it seemed, since fourteen blurred people flew into the Quidditch Pitch and Lee Jordan from Gryffindor started to commentate. The screams and cheers of the supporters would easily drown out the voice of the third year Gryffindor, Harry assumed he either had a microphone or a charm that amplified the volume of his voice.

"Welcome all to the very first game of Quidditch at Hogwarts this season! And what an opening match, Noble Gryffindors versus Slimy Slytherins!"

"Jordan!" Harry heard Professor McGonagall shout.

The two teams landed, lining up before Madame Hooch. She said something too softly for the audience to hear and then forced the two captains to shake hands. To Harry, it seemed that both were trying to break the other Captains' hand. He made a mental note to either figure out a way to easily break a person's hand bones or never become a Quidditch captain during his Hogwarts career.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and at once, she and the fourteen players took to the sky.

"And they're off! The Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor - what an excellent Chaser that girl is, rather attractive too -"

"JORDAN!" Professor McGonagall once again said in her warning tone.

"Sorry, Professor." Jordan didn't sound sorry at all. "And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve - back to Johnson and - no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes - Flint flying like an eagle up there - he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle - that's chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and - OUCH - that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger - Quaffle taken by the Slytherins - that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger - sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which - nice play by the Gryffindor beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes - she's really flying - dodges a speeding Bludger - the goal posts are ahead - come on, now, Angelina - Keeper Bletchley dives - misses - GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor supporters erupted into cheers, while the sea of green booed and howled at the point won by the red and gold team. Harry couldn't help but notice that the more palpable the tension, the more his layers of spells went unnoticed. He had expected at least a few to be discovered, after all this was his first try! Ah well, utter ignorance sometimes gives birth to utter chaos.

"Slytherin in possession - Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the - wait a moment - was that the Snitch?"

A flash of gold went past Adrian Pucey's ear and the Slytherin Chaser dropped the Quaffle in shock. The Gryffindor and Slytherin seekers, who at that point were very sparsely involved in the game so far, raced after it. While the crowd was murmuring and kept their eyes glued on the two seekers, a pair of emerald green orbs widened.

Growing up with the Dursleys, Harry was given very few worldly possessions. He still maintained that the best gift he had ever received, not counting Hedwig, was a used clothes hanger from a few Christmas' back. It was made of silver wire and bent in a number of ways, but Harry cared not for its shape. After his younger self had bent it into a roughly circle shape, he attached it to the light bulb inside his cupboard and watched as it caught the light in a number of fascinating ways. He would stare at it shine for hours on end, making his eyes hurt but would engross him so entirely that he did not care.

Unfortunately, an effect of such attention to a shiny, silver and yellow object had made Harry very susceptible to wanting to not only _catch_ but to _have_ all objects of this making. He now had one in his trunk, the first he had caught in his life, and that euphoria had distracted him from the other Snitches Madam Hooch had presented that day at Flying class. However, he was not in immediate possession of a Snitch and the Snitch that was flying around the pitch started to look very... enticing to Harry.

He looked around, making sure no one was paying him any attention, and promptly made himself extremely small. He was the size of an ant, and he levitated over to where the Snitch was playing tag with the two seekers. He conjured a length of rope and quickly tied each end to the base of each wing. Finding a comfortable grove on the tiny, well large to him, ball, he started to ride it. He directed its flight by using all the instructions he had found in a book concerning horseback riding. In his delight, it obeyed his orders.

No words could describe the utter bewilderment of the entire school, including its Professors, on the flight pattern and apparent attitude of the school Snitch that day. It led the Seekers on a merry goose chase, often making impossible twists and turns around the players themselves. Captain Wood of Gryffindor even had to complain that the snitch going in and out of his third hoop was very distracting, especially since the two seekers would keep on accidentally hitting him with their broom ends.

Harry couldn't help himself and was shouting in glee when his layered charms finally started to go off. All fourteen players and Madam Hooch stopped their game and watched as the four stands began to noticeably _shiver_. The wood started to shake and the Professors were beginning to try and evacuate the students. As soon as it started, however, the shaking stopped and suddenly about twenty students wands started erupting into whichever color they supported.

Surprisingly, a few red and gold sparks were found amidst the green and silver of the Slytherin stands. Hufflepuff mostly spouted red and gold, while Ravenclaw had a curious mix of all four colors. Gryffindors were united in their red and gold sparks and even got excited over it. The pitch itself became one large fireworks show, as the goal posts started to blow out what seemed to be red and gold bubbles at the Gryffindor end, with silver and green bubbles at the Slytherin end.

Amidst all the chaos, little blades of grass also rocketed off the pitch and exploded in little leaves and soil particles about thirty feet into the air. The debris from these grass rockets suddenly turning into more colored bubbles and would float up and away. All the people on broomsticks flew higher as to not be hit by any of the grass rockets, all the while avoiding the colored bubbles.

Throughout all this, Professor McGonagall's eyes gleamed. She noticed that each student whose wand had sent of colored sparks were first transfigured into firework sticks then into plain wand-shaped wooden sticks, with the charms cancelling out very quickly. Once the plain stick disappeared, the firework sticks would shoot off the sparks, then be transfigured back into the students wand. This would all occur in the span of a mere second. But her sharp eyes caught the very miniscule delay in the unravelling of spell layers. Whoever had pulled this off, she would first scream at for testing volatile magic on fellow students wands, then deduct so many points that his/her house would never see a positive point mark until their grandchildren went to Hogwarts, make them write lines to within an inch of his/her life, before finally signing an mentorship contract with her. She smiled at her own wand that had undergone the layering of charms of the prankster, and had to mentally tip her hat off to that students who had the guts, and the brains to back it up, to transfigure the Hogwarts Transfiguration Mistress' wand.

Other than the mysterious prankster striking once again, it was a very strange game in such that the Snitch also altogether disappeared an hour into the game. Harry merely smirked as he, now normal sized, felt the little thing rest comfortably in his pocket. He always wanted a horse. And maybe his other Snitch was getting lonely. He teleported it to his trunk in the exact sock he kept his other Snitch in.

Madam Hooch finally called the game to a halt after five hours, gave the team ten minutes to rest, and retrieved another Snitch. Scrying spells for the original Snitch had told her that it was no longer on the pitch. After another three gruelling hours, the game finally ended with 670-530 with Gryffindor catching the Snitch and securing the win. All fourteen players were then admitted in the Hospital Wing, diagnosed with exhaustion.

As promised, after the game, Harry went straight to the Owlery. Whistling a merry tune as he went, he spotted a rat scurrying down the corridor he was in. Shrugging his shoulders, he skipped the rest of his way up to meet Hedwig.

"Finally!" he smiled when he spotted her taking a drink from a water basin at the far side of the Owlery.

He went straight towards her and petted her.

"There's a good girl! Did you have trouble finding them? I thought they would just be in the castle. They must have some spells to make it so you can't deliver them letter addressed to _The Marauders_ during breakfast. What took them so long to reply? What do they look like?" Harry excitedly asked the snowy owl, while grabbing a few owl treats from a nearby forgotten owl treat bag.

Hedwig, as her answer, merely crooked her head to the side.

"Yes, well. One day I hope to create a spell to understand animal thought and speech, I'll have you know." he told her, while feeding her a few treats.

She gulped down the treats then extended her leg towards him. Only one letter was attached to it, and Harry's heart raced at the sight. The first thing he noticed was that it had used the same parchment as the one he had sent. His letter being at the back of the reply. He quickly unfolded the parchment and began to read.

_Unfortunately, the Marauders have disbanded. I am only one-fourth of the group but am sure I speak for us all in saying that we are glad that the tradition of rule breaking at Hogwarts holds true in all generations._

_I am open to future correspondence and might even assist in a prank or two._

It was unsigned.

Harry turned towards Hedwig, who was once again drinking from the water basin.

"Was the person you delivered this to in Hogwarts like I said?" he asked her.

She gave an affirmative hoot.

"Did you send all four? It's a pity they disbanded.. But it is strange that only one replied. Maybe they're all having a row of sorts.", he mumbled more to himself than to his pet owl.

Hedwig once again merely crooked her head to the side as a reply.

Harry pocketed the letter and petted Hedwig once again.

"Are you tired? Or are you up for a bit of... recreational flying?" he asked her with a grin.

She stretched her wings in reply.

"Excellent."

It was on that day that Harry learned two things: Owl feathers were infinitely more comfortable than gold plating, and living creatures, particularly owls, flew with more enthusiasm than any broom or snitch can try to emulate.

OMAKE

As the grass leaned towards the direction the wind was blowing, the land was as quiet as ever. Few visited this place, and fewer stayed for longer than a few minutes. Some say the place was haunted, but all agreed that its atmosphere was eerie and melancholic.

Amidst the depressing nature of the land, a single snowy owl landed on one of the graves. It dropped off a letter in front of one of the many headstones. After waiting a while, almost as if it was saying a silent prayer, it flew off and disappeared into the sky.

On the headstone was written, _James Potter 27 March 1960 - 31 October 1981_ and _Lily Potter 30 January 1960 - 31 October 1981._ Below both names and subsequent dates were the words, ' _The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.'_

On the grass directly in front of the headstone, the lone letter remained. It was not to be touched until the groundskeeper would eventually bin it with other debris after a heavy downpour a few days later. At the front, written in the hand of a happy and carefree child, the letter was addressed to ' _My heroes'._


	9. Erised

Of all the colors in the world, Harry Potter despised white. While he admitted that it did look somewhat pretty in contrast with other colors, white in its singular existence did nothing for his imagination except to urge him to destroy it by making a large colorful mess. White, to him at least, was too bright yet felt too empty. He didn't like it one bit.

Unfortunately for him, Christmas was coming. By December, the residents of Hogwarts awoke to find the grounds under several feet of pure white snow. It's abundance bringing excitement to all the students of the school. Except Harry.

"Chin up, Harry!" Wayne laughed as the two made their way across the white grounds.

Many of the students had jumped out of their beds, hastily wore their winter coats, and ran to the snow covered open grounds. Snow angels, snow men, snow forts, and snow fights were in abundance. It was amazing how many people were up and about considering how cold the weather was.

"I don't like this." Harry said as he shivered yet again.

Harry also did not like the cold that much. His clothing at home consisted of Dudley's castoffs and the cloth was usually already thin. These facts guaranteed that he needed to layer his clothes during winters, and usually this wasn't enough. His energy levels also seemed to lower during the cold temperatures. His magic was being as lethargic as his body in times he needed it to keep warm. The one bright spot of his morning was when he witnessed the Weasley twins bewitch several snowballs to follow Quirrell, and bounce off the back of his turban.

"Look!" Wayne said excitedly, pointing towards the lake. "It looks frozen solid! I think some of those Gryffindors are trying out if it's hard enough to skate on! Let's go ice skating!"

Wayne did not share Harry's apprehension to the white and cold weather. In fact, he seemed even more energetic than usual.

"You go. I'll watch." Harry muttered as he wrapped his black and yellow scarf tighter.

"Oh c'mon, Potter. Ice skating is fun!"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know how."

Wayne sighed. "All right, do you want to go back to the common room then?"

Harry visibly glowed at the prospect and Wayne laughed.

"Let's get your frozen arse back to the fire then."

The two trudged their way back to the castle. As they entered, they saw Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley exchanging words.

"I do feel sorry," said Draco, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

"My parents are going to Romania to visit my brother Charlie! It's not like that!" Ron shouted back to him, furious.

"Why don't you and your siblings go with them then?" Draco sneered. "Oh right. You probably can't _afford_ to all go."

Ron was going red in the face.

Just as everyone thought Ron would explode, a large fir tree hit Harry and Wayne from behind.

"Blimey! Sorry fo' tha'. Didn' see ya there." Hagrid said in a way of greeting.

Draco and Ron, seeing as there was now a staff member that could act as a witness, disappeared from sight.

Harry looked at the fir tree. It was large and beautiful. It had some snow still attached to its leaves but was still mostly a nice dark green.

"Harry, why'd yeh look so glum?" Hagrid asked.

Harry was about to answer when Wayne said, "He hates Christmas. Apparently, it's too white and cold."

Harry scowled while Hagrid let out a booming laugh.

"Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

Wayne agreed immediately and was bouncing as he and Hagrid discussed the finer points of the holiday. Harry followed at a more sedate pace.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree – put it in the far corner, would you?" Professor Flitwick smiled.

Harry stood still at the entrance, stunned by the look of the Great Hall. It looked spectacular. Holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room. Some of the trees were sparkling with tiny icicles and others glittering with hundreds of candles.

He turned towards Professor Flitwick who was charming little golden bubbles from his wand to trail over the branches of Hagrid's tree. _Golden_ bubbles. Harry went straight to his teacher and began what turned out to be two hours worth of an impromptu decorating with Charms lesson. By the time Harry had finished helping the Professor, he noticed that Wayne had already gone ahead to the Common Room.

Harry sighed and started to head towards the Badgers Den. The best thing about being a Hufflepuff, for the late risers anyway, was that the common room was so close to the Great Hall. While Gryffindors had to walk a quarter to half an hour to get to breakfast, the Puffs needed only ten minutes. And that was if they walked particularly slowly. He wrapped his arms around himself as he began his slow trudge to the warm common room fires.

A slight rumble caught his attention and he hid behind a stone pillar. The painting of a fruit bowl was pushed forward, and from behind it came out two red-headed Gryffindors. They were both munching on apples.

"What's Dumbledore playing at?" George muttered.

Fred shook his head. "Blimey. A three-headed dog. Here at Hogwarts!"

"No wonder Dumbledore told us all off on even _thinking_ of going anywhere near there."

"Curiosity has been known to kill the cat, Forge. This definitely could have killed us."

"Good thing we aren't cats then, right Gred? We're LIONS!"

"Same time tomorrow, then?" George grinned.

Fred smirked, "Did you have any doubts?"

The two laughed uproariously as they headed towards the Great Hall. Harry waited until he could no longer hear the twins practicing saying 'Sit!', 'Stay!', 'Roll Over!', and 'Play dead!' before continuing his walk towards his common room.

"Hey mate." Wayne greeted Harry as he arrived.

Wayne was wrapped up in a Christmas sweater and sitting in front of the fire with the other first years. They looked like they were playing exploding snap. There were mugs of hot chocolate littered next to them. Harry found a spot on the floor and joined them.

"You left." Harry pouted.

Wayne laughed. "Sorry mate. I did try to get your attention. You were staring at those gold baubles so intensely I don't think you heard me!"

Harry kept pouting but couldn't stop a smirk when the cards exploded in Justin's face.

Wayne pushed his mug of hot chocolate towards Harry. "Cheer up, mate! Think of it this way, you got a private lesson with Flitwick! He's your favourite Professor, aint he?"

Harry shook his head. Professor Quirrell was his favorite. He accepted the mug anyway. He took a deep gulp from it, feeling ten times warmer. He loved chocolate. Maybe he could forgive Wayne just this once. He needed to ask the boy something anyway.

"Hey Wayne, don't you have a pet dog at home?" he asked.

Wayne nodded as he carefully removed a card from the deck. "A pitbull, Roger. Why?"

"What does Roger like to do? Do you play with him?"

"Mostly fetch. We used to play tag when I was a kid but then he got bigger and scarier to do that. Got a nasty bite, that dog. Post man almost lost an arm once when Roger was being a bit too friendly." Wayne laughed. "Mum was so embarrassed. Good thing Dad healed it right up before obliviating the bloke."

Harry tuned out the rest of Wayne's rambling as his face took on a pensive look.

"Fetch... Hmm..."

The rest of the day consisted of the first years playing games and making smores in front of the fire. Most of the upper years were playing with the snow outside the castle, so the first years were able to enjoy the best seats in the common room. Harry kept winning at Exploding Snap so they grabbed a box of Bertie Botts and were daring each other to eat the suspicious colored ones. They laughed as they each tried to guess what the flavour could be. Harry's supposed soap and lime turned out to be marshmallow and grass, while Wayne's black pudding and red liquorice was pepper and rust. Poor Ernie's raspberry and cherry turned out to be blood and liver. After all their sugar rushes had subsided, the tired Hufflepuffs retired to their dormitories.

Unfortunately for Harry, he could not fall asleep as quickly as his dorm mates. He quickly rearranged his pillows to look like a human body, tucked it in, and walked out of the dorms. It was nearing curfew and most had already gone up to bed so there were only a few upper years loitering in the common room.

He quietly left and walked towards the forbidden corridor. It was a cold and quiet night. He started to regret leaving the warmth of his four-poster bed. He sneezed.

After walking the entire third floor, he finally found the door that led to the forbidden corridor. Harry carefully phased through it. No use in risking the creak of the door, especially in the dead silence. He was greeted by a low growl. When the Weasley twins spoke of a three headed dog, he pictured a normal dog with three heads. He realized that he was incredibly naive in his assumptions. In front of him was a dog that not only had three heads, it was quite massive. He could easily fit in any one of its mouths.

At first, dog and boy stared into each others' eyes. Well, tried to anyway. There were way too many eyes for Harry to keep track. He settled for staring at the head in the middle.

Harry didn't really like Dudley's Aunt Marge. But he did learn a thing or two about dogs from her. He was usually employed as dog sitter every time she came over with her pets. Unfortunately for him, he didn't really get along with any of them. Acting more as a chew toy than as a sitter. He didn't think he could survive being this dogs' chew toy though.

The dog released another menacing growl. Harry carefully held out his right arm. One of the heads, the one on the right, slowly came closer. It sniffed his hand. The two other heads followed, sniffing him quietly. He almost jumped a foot in the air when the head at the left licked his hand. Harry smelled his left hand. He grimaced. He smelled like marshmallows. How thick could he get?

The dog started to wag its tail and jumped up and down. Harry grinned.

"Play?" he asked.

The dog barked.

He spent a good hour playing fetch with the Cerberus. He got sick of thinking of the dog as Cerberus or three-headed dog so he started calling it Kirby. He would conjure his ghost instruments, changing its code to enable Kirby to interact with it. Using Arithmancy, he was finally able to quantify that the code written within each spell could target certain objects. Affect certain beings only. From the universal set of things in the world, all he had to do was find the correct subset and consequent code that reacted to that subset for the ghosts! His first test on the troll had succeeded (the boxes only affected him but the troll and its club phased right through it) and this test on Kirby was quickly becoming even more fun. Unfortunately, the materials didn't last very long. After imbuing a purpose for it, such as allowing Kirby to fetch the stick and bring it back to him, it would disappear in a puff of smoke-like substance.

Harry grinned as he pet Kirby. The dog quickly got on its back and was whining for Harry to scratch its stomach. He made wide sweeping arches with his arms in order to do it properly. He laughed as as Kirby started kicking the nearby wall in happiness.

"Who's a good boy, who's a good boy" Harry cooed. "I know!"

Harry quickly took a spare marshmallow he had in his pocket and enlarged it.

"Here you go Kirby!"

The three headed dog quickly sat up and started to fight over the sweet treat.

He conjured a bowl and quickly filled it with water. He pet the dog once again before moving towards the door. A definite whine stopped him. He turned to Kirby and smiled at the sad look on all its faces.

"I'll be back soon. We can play tag next time! But for now... Stay!"

Harry waved and phased through the door as he heard Kirby bark in farewell.

The rest of the holiday blew past Harry as he spent his days playing with his school mates during the day, and Kirby at night. He learned chess from Cedric Diggory. He continued to beat the pants off of his fellow first years of all houses in exploding snap. He even let Wayne drag him into a snow ball fight that included first years from all four houses. Draco's team won, of course. The Slytherins team had sneaked into the other teams bases and stolen all the pre-made snowballs. Surprisingly, Draco chose Harry for his team so he was included in the post-game celebration of hot chocolate in the Great Hall. The Slytherins hot chocolate tasted _fancier_ than the one he tried at Hufflepuff. Draco said that their chocolate was imported from somewhere. Harry welcomed the warmth it gave anyway, no matter where the chocolate came from.

Kirby was going through his training quickly. After picking up a dog training book, it was quite easy for Harry to begin the lessons. Kirby could now 'speak', 'sit', 'roll over', and 'play dead'. Instead of marshmallows, he also started giving Kirby proper dog treats and bones. The three headed dog still preferred marshmallows though. Harry avoided giving him too much, but always had a few in his pocket just in case.

When the rest of the students returned home, Wayne decided to stay with Harry at Hogwarts. Harry grinned at his friend and tossed the boy a mug of Hufflepuff hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. The hot chocolate spilled and Wayne cursed. It was shaping up to be the best holiday he ever had, despite the cold and all the white.

On Christmas morning, Wayne woke Harry up by jumping up and down on the latter's bed.

"Happy Christmas, Harry!"

Harry grinned and saw a small pile of presents at the foot of his bed. The two boys high five'd before diving into their own piles.

Harry got various sugary snacks from his fellow first years from the other houses. He'd gotten boxes of Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Cauldron Cakes, and Liquorice Wands. His sweet tooth already ached at just the sight of it all.

The Weasley twins had apparently written home to their Mother about him since he also found a green hand knitted-sweater as well as mince pies from them. The twins also enclosed a note that said they were accepting applications for a protégé if he was interested. He chuckled at that. Draco Malfoy had given him what looked to be an expensive eagle-feather quill and a bottle of green ink. His dorm mates, excluding Wayne, had all chipped in and bought him a new leather messenger bag charmed to be of feather-weight and bottomless. Wayne had even given him his very own pack of exploding snap cards and a chess set.

"You're so good at games that you might as well have your own deck and board to play on."

Harry thanked him.

There was even a gift from the Dursleys. He got a fifty-pence piece and a note that told him not to be back until summer. He was touched that they remembered him.

There was one package that did not have a label, only a note.

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you._

Ripping off the wrapping, Harry stared at the soft fabric.

"Hey Harry, I'm going down to the common room to trade chocolate frog cards with that sixth year. Want to come?" Wayne asked, the boys face covered in chocolate.

Harry shook his head. When he was sure he was alone in the room, he pulled the cloak out of the package. Just by touching it, he knew that it was a highly magical object. His fingers were tingling with the energy embedded in the cloak. He pulled it over himself and looked in the mirror. Discovering that he was a floating head turned out to be much more fun than he thought it would be.

"Wicked."

Harry kept the cloak on him at all times. He could already use magic on himself to become invisible but using the cloak gave him a certain kind of warmth. The kind of warmth he always thought he lacked, even more so during the holidays. The type of warmth he always saw in the Dursleys when they thought he wasn't looking. The type he knew the Weasley's had as they were laughing and teasing each other that Christmas morning, in matching sweaters. He kept the cloak in his new bag, running his hand over it every once in a while. Just feeling that tingle in his fingers made him smile. It felt comfortable, familiar.

He spent the rest of the day playing in the snow with the Weasley clan and Wayne. They made snow men and snow angels. The twins even taught them to put spells into snow balls for the next time the first years would have another inter-house snowball fight. The jelly-legs snow ball seemed fun. Christmas day was spent laughing and shivering with his closest friends.

Unfortunately, Wayne caught a nasty cold. His friend was all sniffles and sneezing during dinner. By the middle of it all, Madam Pomfrey escorted Wayne to the Hospital Wing and informed him that he would be staying the night. Harry, however, had a blast with all the delicious food for dinner. There were a hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce – and stacks of wizard crackers. He had fun pulling the wizard crackers and engulfing the whole hall in multi-colored smoke. The professors didn't scold him for this and even secretly laughed with him when several live, white mice quietly fell into Percy Weasley's soup. Percy shrieked when he pulled his spoon out, intending to dine on the scrumptious soup, only to find a mouse seated quite comfortably on it. Harry brought all the treats he got from the crackers; a bonnet, non-explodable luminous balloons, a grow-your-own warts kit, and a few chocolate galleons.

He visited his friend right after dinner. Poor Wayne could only drink broth and have a few crackers. He couldn't taste anything either. Harry handed over his chocolate galleons and swore that they helped with the cold. Wayne tried it and thanked him. He promised to be back in the morning with a few chocolate frogs from his stash.

As Harry was walking back to the Hufflepuff common room, Peeves blocked his path.

"You!" the poltergeist screamed. "Poor peeves-y punished for your tricks!"

Harry stared at him. "But you had fun, didn't you? That was the deal. Your help, in exchange for a bit of fun!"

Peeves seemed to contemplate on it. "Yes. Fun with Potter. Potter fun like Peeves-y! Potter and Peeves shall have more fun soon, yes?"

Harry grinned. Before he could answer, Peeves suddenly looked afraid and flew off.

"Till next time!"

He turned around, a feeling of dread suddenly washing over him. The Bloody Baron stood a few feet from him, his eye brow raised. His ghostly body was still covered in blood.

"Young Potter." He said in greeting.

Harry grinned a bit. "Good evening, Mr. Bloody, sir."

The Bloody Baron tutted. "How goes your experiment with Sir Nicholas?"

"Fairly good. I should be able to finish by the end of the school year."

"Don't be cocky. It has never been done before. You think just because you are the first who have discovered our Council in many years then-"

Harry handed him a handkerchief. It was ghostly pale and slightly transparent.

"You've got a little stain there." He said, pointing to his own chest.

The Bloody Baron looked startled. He tentatively reached for the handkerchief, curiosity escalating as he was able to hold it. He carefully wiped a bit of blood off his clothes. He became gobsmacked. Some of the blood came off! He looked up only to see Harry running away from him and towards the Hufflepuff Common Room.

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Bloody, Sir!"

The handkerchief suddenly disappeared in a puff of smoke-like substance and the Bloody Baron released a booming laugh. Maybe the boy wasn't leading Sir Nicholas on after all.

That night, Harry had begun to make a dent into his Christmas Candy. This made falling asleep incredibly difficult despite having a very physically exerting day. Once again running his hand over his cloak, he decided to explore the castle. After all, the students and staff had a prank break during the holidays. It was just too cold for him to be in a mood to pull any pranks. With his warm invisibility cloak, the cold was no longer a hindrance to him.

Harry laughed as he ran in and out of classrooms, layering charms and spells over various objects. Oh what a surprise the students would have in store for them when they returned! He came close to the library and smirked. It was the only place he had not pulled anything in. He quietly entered. All thoughts on pranking escaped his mind, however, when he saw the entrance to the restricted section.

' _Restricted, huh?'_ thought Harry as he approached it.

Before he could enter, he heard a meowing. Light from a lamp cast an eerie light over the library. From the entrance, the caretaker and his cat came into view.

"Stay alert, my sweet. Sniff em out." The man whispered to Mrs. Norris.

Harry sighed. The library had lucked out for the night. He phased through a walls to get back to the corridors.

He found himself in an unused classroom. It was covered in dust except for streaks from the door going into the room. The desks and chairs were piled against the wall. Propped against the wall facing him was something that looked out of place. It looked like it was only put there to keep it out of the way. It was a magnificent mirror. It was tall, almost reaching the ceiling. It had an ornate gold frame with two clawed feet. At the top, there was an inscription: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

More than its mysterious look, Harry was also mesmerized by the power he could feel emanating from it. It was calling to him. It was weaker than his cloak, though. Still, the sheer amount of power he could feel prompted him to approach the mirror. He dropped his invisibility cloak in order to get a better feel of the mirror. He stepped in front of it and felt the full blast of its power.

"Happy Christmas, Harry." A voice surprised him.

He turned around and felt as though his insides turned to ice. And he _hated_ the cold. Sitting on one of the desks was none other than Albus Dumbledore. His only encounter with the powerful wizard was when he botched up his first year prank. Thankfully, he was viewed as a victim and not the perpetrator of the prank. That only happened since he was careful to let people see him as an average behaved student. Now he was caught out of bounds. This could have severe implications for future pranking.

"I – I didn't see you, sir." He stuttered.

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore. Harry was relieved to see that the Headmaster was smiling. "That is a fine cloak you have there, Harry. Far too precious to let it gather dust on the ground."

Harry turned red and picked up his cloak right away. The same feeling of warmth spread to him, reassuring him. He felt more confident.

"So," Dumbledore started as he walked towards Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

He glanced at the large mirror and frowned. "It's magical, sir."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, I believe it is. Very magical, in fact. Have you realized by now what it does?"

Harry's frown deepened. "Aside from feeling very powerful, no sir."

It was Dumbledore's turn to frown at him. "What do you mean, Harry?"

"Well," he said as he turned to face the mirror, "it _feels_ magical. I can practically taste the magic inside it standing where I am right now. But I just don't see it. It's just a normal mirror, isn't it?" He waved to his mirror-self and laughed as he made funny faces at himself. "Is it unbreakable?"

Harry didn't notice Dumbledore wipe a tear from his eye.

"No, unfortunately it can be broken just like any other mirror. It will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry. I do not think you will encounter it again. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry shrugged, wished the Headmaster a happy Christmas, and disappeared under his Invisibility Cloak.

Albus faced the mirror and smiled at the two people who always haunted his dreams.

"Maybe I have done something right after all." He whispered, before disappearing himself.

OMAKE

Justin Finch-Fletchley was thirsty. He awoke and rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes. Turning to get out of bed, he dreamed of being back in his own bed soon. He stood and walked towards the pitcher of water near the other side of the dormitory.

As he took a great gulp, he turned to the bed nearest him.

Harry Potter was a likable fellow. He was fun, but sometimes too quiet. When he first heard about Harry's legend, he had been shocked. After hearing about it, he was extremely nervous to befriend the boy. What could he say to a celebrity of the Wizarding World? He was a muggleborn and had only even heard the story fairly recently. He felt _unworthy._

He shook his head to wake himself up a bit more. He suddenly heard a rustle of something close to him. He turned to Harry.

"Harry? Mate?" he whispered.

He approached the boy and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. It was unusually soft. When Harry's face came into view, he had to stop himself from screaming.

Harry's face was white with x's for eyes.

Justin ran to his bed and pulled his covers over his head. Trying to slow down his heart beat. He heard another rustle of cloth and the sound of movement from bed springs. Heart still racing, he pulled down the covers and slowly stood once again. His legs felt like jelly. He approached Potters bed, his fear slowly escalating.

Once again, he saw Harry in bed. Potter was sleeping on his side, covers up to his chin.

"H-H-Harry?" he stuttered.

Harry slowly sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. They were now green and normal. He shook the younger boy by his shoulders.

"Y-Y-You were white! A-A-And soft! And your eyes! They were 'x's!"

Harry stared at him. "I think you've had a few too many smores mate."

When Harry convinced him to get back to bed, he did not hear the younger boy sigh in relief and mutter, "That was close."


	10. Trouble, trouble, trouble!

Harry Potter was rarely caught doing things he wasn't _supposed_ to do. He went out of his way to act innocent and ignorant. He used his arsenal of childish features to nudge at the heartstrings of his victims, otherwise known as "authority figures". He knew that rule breakers were often closely watched by 'authorities' and it only took one incident for the likelihood of being caught again to rise exponentially. And being caught meant punishment, which he didn't care for at all.

Before coming to Hogwarts, Harry felt like there was a magnifying glass on him. The Dursleys blamed every little problem in their home or lives on him. When his Aunt Petunia had forgotten to get her change from the cashier at the market, she had blamed him. She told him that it was due to his unnaturalness that the change had slipped her mind (never mind that she was running late from picking up Dudley from Piers' house). Harry argued that he was locked in his cupboard the entire time she was out shopping. But that didn't matter. His sentence extended even more for his cheek. Uncle Vernon never had seemed to forgive him for somehow making his secretary quit. After all, she was the best he ever had. She was elderly yet worked hard. What could Harry do but apologize for the fact that she met her former boyfriend at a park at an entirely different part of England? Apparently, his unnaturalness made it his fault that the two had eloped soon after. After all, he controlled the universe. Dudley, on the other hand, blamed many small things on him. Like the broken television, which Dudley had put his foot through when his favorite show was cancelled; his broken air rifle, which Dudley had sat on; and his missing parrot, which Dudley had traded in for the then-working air rifle.

No matter what he seemed to do or not do, he would always get in trouble. This was the reason he was so adamant on not standing out at Hogwarts. Bad rule breakers were always watched. Good ones were never caught. He couldn't help his track record at the Dursley home, so he would start anew at Hogwarts.

So far, he was doing well. He couldn't help but smile at the exasperated students as they grudgingly displayed his Yule time efforts. He figured, if they all liked white so much, they would like to become more personally acquainted with the color. The Great Hall looked odd with half the student populations robes being completely white instead of black. The Professors were appalled at the disregard for the proper uniform, but at the same time couldn't do anything about it. No matter what dying charm or spell was cast on the robes, they remained adamantly white. Even house scarves and ties became white. The other half of the student population were the same, except their robes and house accessories were all black. He found it amusing that the Professors hadn't figured out that it was a layered charm. His top-most layer had been to render 'Finite Incantatem' and other dispelling charms useless. This had kept the entire charm intact despite the Professors best efforts.

Harry found the situation even funnier when Gryffindors and Slytherins, who hated each other, suddenly caught themselves being civil to members of the others house. After all, being all black and white, it was hard to distinguish between houses at first glance. Only those within the same year level knew each others houses. It was particularly entertaining when Ronald Weasley found himself playing chess with a third year Slytherin without knowing. He was still exclaiming loudly how he thought the boy was a Ravenclaw, and how deceived he felt. The third year Slytherin merely smirked and said that Ron was only bent out of shape due to the fact that the Slytherin had won.

The Professors were also having difficulty with the House Points system. Without the tell-tale signs of colored ties and scarves, they were making mistakes on which house to reward during classes. Other than the classes conducted by the heads of the four houses, at least ten minutes of class time was otherwise used to correct a professor on to which house he/she should have rewarded points to. In fact, the only Professor who seemed delighted by the prank was Professor Dumbledore. The longer the prank wore on, the happier the headmaster seemed at the head table during supper. Harry suspected that the Headmaster hadn't tried very hard at undoing the prank.

In the name of being a good rule breaker, Harry himself had allowed his robes to be spelled white. And while he remained innocuous in the minds of the Professors, he was in a foul mood about his robes. It was, in fact, thanks to watching Ron Weasley gorge himself in the Gryffindor table, that he figured out how to stay innocuous and be somewhat rid from all the white. The layered charms would dispel any color charm or spell, but it did nothing against outside materials. As he was once again table-hopping, he witnessed Ron splash some gravy onto his black robes and it had remained brown. The next day, Harry was seen wearing his white robes with his tie and emblem colored in using black and yellow crayon. The wax from the coloring materials stayed on the cloth, and remained their designated color. Needless to say, Muggle-borns made a killing in selling crayons they had their parents owl to them.

And if they all thought classes and normal life at Hogwarts would be the worst affected by the prank, they had all massaged their foreheads trying to dispel a headache while watching the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match. Chasers kept passing to the other team, and keepers looked to be suspicious of all players who went near them. Beaters ended up agreeing to just play catch with each other to avoid accidentally hitting their own teammate. It was bedlam. And the pouring rain didn't help the players any. Harry couldn't help but beam when they also discovered that the bludgers, quaffle, and snitch had become white (well, muddy brown part-way through the match). The match finally ended with Hufflepuff winning by a narrow margin of ten points, and it was due to Cedric catching the snitch when they were down by 140. Wood was seen trying to wrestle the bludgers by himself while one-handed, he clutched a large black crayon in the other hand. After seeing the Gryffindor Keeper smile triumphantly while clutching a broken wrist, Harry decided to cancel the spells the next morning. That boy was just plain creepy, and would probably go mad if he had to play another match like that.

As Harry moved around Hogwarts, casting the counter-charms in frequently used corridors, he spotted Professor Snape rushing past his invisible form. If anything, the youngest Potter was very curious. So he followed.

The Potions Professor rushed out of the castle, down the front steps, and into the Forbidden Forest. Harry ran after him. However, he soon discovered that the forest was a very good hiding place. The dark trees provided perfect cover for whoever did not want to be seen. Unfortunately for him, this included his Potions professor.

He was about to give up and return to the castle when he suddenly spotted something light from the corner of his eye. He moved towards it and couldn't help but gasp. Unicorns! Two white adults and a golden foal were grazing in a clearing, the moon casting its soft light on them. He stepped into the clearing and the three unicorns immediately glanced in his direction. They seemed frightened and hesitant. Looking wildly around in his direction, their ears pointing up, and they were sniffing around. Harry realized he was still invisible, but that they could still somewhat sense him. He cancelled the charm.

The two adults immediately started to turn away, however the golden foal held its ground and stared at him.

"Hi." Harry whispered, staring at the beautiful and shiny golden foal. "My name is Harry Potter. Can I come closer?"

Harry was well aware of his obsession with gold and shiny things. But he had never seen anything golden or shiny be as intrigued by him as he was of it. The golden foal started moving towards him, hesitantly. As if afraid that _Harry_ would be the one that would run away!

He smiled when it finally reached him. He carefully extended his hand towards the foal. He brought his hand towards its nose, like how he did when he first met Kirby. The foal, however, did not smell him and merely rubbed its head on his hand. His smile widened.

The two adult unicorns cautiously approached him, taking their cue from the foal. After a few seconds, they had relaxed in his company and started to nudge him. They even allowed him to pet them. He didn't think he could get any happier. These shiny magical creatures were letting him pet them!

He was about to try and ask if he could ride one of the adults, when their ears suddenly pointed up once again and they turned to the other side of the clearing. They immediately situated themselves between whatever scared them and Harry and their foal. At first, he heard and sensed nothing. After a minute, he heard two voices getting louder and louder. The three unicorns quickly left him, galloping away into the forest. The golden foal took a second to bow its head at him before disappearing after its parents. Disappointed, however intrigued about the voices, he crept slowly towards the two shadowy figures. He had to cover his mouth to hide his gasp.

It was Professor Snape and Quirrel! Well. He had not expected to walk into a lovers' quarrel when he had followed his Potions Professor, but Harry did not judge them. He simply turned around and went back to the castle, making sure to try and block out their voices. He would leave his Professors' love lives where it belonged: far, far away from him.

He practically run up the front steps and into the castle. Harry walked towards the Great Hall to continue his work. If any of the students used lesser-known passageways, he would place the layer-charm-counter on the doors of the Great Hall as well. He wanted to thump himself on the head for not just spelling the Great Hall doors in the first place. He took out James, his second wand, rolled up his sleeves and started casting.

"STUDENT OUT OF BED! STUDENT OUT OF BED AT THE GREAT HALL!"

Harry visibly flinched and turned around to see Peeves flying down from one of the corridors. The moment Peeves saw his face in the light, the poltergeist stopped shouting. But the damage had been done. He could already see the caretaker at the end of that same corridor.

Harry turned tail and ran back to the Hufflepuff Common Room, once again turning invisible. He didn't know whether Filch saw his face or not, but he did know that the caretaker saw him.

Even in the silence of his dormitory, tucked into his think blanket, Harry fell into a fitful sleep. He was going to get caught. He knew it. All too soon, Wayne was shaking him awake for breakfast.

"Harry, what's wrong? I've never seen you this depressed. And that includes over the yule break!"

Harry merely grunted and followed his housemates to the Great Hall. They all grinned when their robes righted themselves on the way back. The Puffs were back in the yellow and black, and they couldn't be happier.

"I can't believe it took this long to get the colors back in our robes!" Smith smiled as he continued to hold onto his tie, as if the act of letting go would make the color drain from it.

"Even the Professors couldn't dispel it!" Ernie said, awed. "Though, I heard Professor Dumbledore didn't even try."

Harry let the inane chatter wash over him, too depressed to take part in it. When they finally saw the Great Hall, Harry spotted Filch by the doors and flinched. He felt his heart skip a beat when he actually passed by the caretaker. The caretaker scowled at all of them.

"What's his problem?" Wayne whispered.

The other first years just shrugged. The caretaker was always in a sour mood. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't caught! Filch didn't see his face or know anything other than there being a student being out after curfew!

He found it easier to go on his everyday morning routine, eating his sandwich and keeping up conversation with the others. Pretty soon, he was already laughing with the other first year Hufflepuffs when Justin, who was never really a morning person, missed his mouth and poured hot oatmeal on his lap.

Examinations. Personally, young Harry did not see the point of having them. In the perspective of the school administration and other education authorities, he knew that it was an efficient method and the quickest way to determine if a large number of students 'learned anything'. Or at least learned enough to pass the class. It was also a way to determine if the method of teaching employed for that particular class was able to convey enough information to the students. It was a one-size fits all solution to conveying knowledge. And Harry just couldn't support that. Maybe it stemmed from his being forced to wear clothes many times larger than him, or never really having anything tailored to suit him. No matter how it came about, Harry hated taking examinations.

In the perspective of the students, examinations became an incentive for them to study or force themselves to learn as much as possible from the class in order to do well in the exams. They were told that studying hard led to getting high examination scores, which led to good grades. It also acted as a disincentive since doing badly at exams almost assuredly resulted into punishment from his/her parents. This didn't work on Harry. He personally didn't want good grades, and he definitely didn't _need_ them. He aimed to be in the middle of class, thank you very much. And parents? His were dead. It might be a sad way of thinking about it, but he had never really understood what it felt like to want to get high grades for a parent. Dudley never seemed to want to get good grades for his parents. Yet the youngest Dursley still got every little thing his heart desired. Whenever Harry got good grades he was accused of cheating, and got nothing his little heart desperately needed.

And really, examinations didn't really measure what the student learned from the course. Most of them forgot what they learned a few weeks after the exam. They _knew_ the lessons enough for the exams, but didn't _understand_ the lessons enough for real life.

Unfortunately, no matter his opinion on examinations, the Professors were determined to get their class averages rather high that year. Rumor had it that the European schools were going to be examined within the next decade. Class averages would be compiled and analyzed. These would then determine the rating of each school in each subject. In an effort to cram even more in their supposedly empty heads, more and more homework was assigned. Harry was part of the popular opinion that the Teachers merely wanted a grade cushion in case they needed one. Giving a large percentage of class average to a small number of homework assignments was questionable. Giving a larger percentage of class average to a large number of homework assignments was more justifiable.

Which is why he was sitting in the library, surrounded by fellow first years, textbooks, quills, and pieces of parchment, staring amusedly at a Gryffindor girl named Hermione Granger. She was sitting by herself a few tables away. Her table, which was supposed to fit six students and their school things, was overflowing with her own books, pieces of parchment, bottles of ink, and color-coded notes. She was furiously going back and forth between two books. One he recognized as their Potions text, and the other an obscure Charms theory library book. She was also mumbling to herself.

His transfiguration essay lay finished, but lacking many inches the assigned length, in front of him as he continued to observe her. He turned to the other first years sharing his table. Wayne was next to him finishing a Potions essay, Justin was inconspicuously trying to catch a nap between preparing for their Astronomy exam, Hannah was furiously scribbling away at their History homework, and Susan was sighing as she read the required chapter for Herbology.

"Is it just me, or have all the professors gone barmy?" Wayne groaned as he dipped his quill in an ink bottle.

"Tell me about it, mate." Justin yawned. "I feel like I haven't had a wink of sleep all week!"

"Which makes History of Magic that much more unbearable." Susan added as she put down her text, "I was having enough trouble staying awake in that class before."

The rest all nodded, too tired to really engage in complaints about their boring History lessons.

"Has anyone else noticed how bad Defense has become?" Hannah asked them.

Harry sat upright at that. "What do you mean?"

Hannah was contemplative for a moment before speaking, "well, I noticed that Professor Quirrel stutters a lot more now. I knew he stuttered a lot before, but it seems to have become twice as often. It takes all the concentration I have to take notes in class."

The others nodded.

"He seems jumpier too." Wayne added. "I was going to ask him something after class the other day, he almost jumped a foot in the air when he spotted me still seated when you lot had left. Did you know he talks to himself once we leave? It was mighty disturbing."

As the others continued discussing the increasingly strange behavior, not that it wasn't strange before, of their Defense Professor, Harry thought back to the day he saw Professor Quirrel and Snape at the Forbidden Forest. Harry knew that Professor Quirrel didn't really have a stutter. But the fact that the Defense Professor was increasing the amount of stutters made Harry believe that maybe the professor was trying to get someones attention (or maybe losing it). He also noticed that the MerVamp had also become snarkier than usual. The two must have not made up yet. He felt bad for them. If they really loved each other, they should just make up. Maybe it would help them ease up on the students too.

Harry decided to try and give Quirrel encouraging smiles every now and then. Maybe mention Defense in passing during Potions class. Little reminders might just be what the two needed to remember how much they loved each other.

It was with this new resolve that Harry entered the Defense classroom the next day. He took his regular seat and waited, with his other classmates, for Quirrel. Looking around, he made a mental note to congratulate Justin for mastering the charm that allowed the person it was used on to sleep with their eyes open. The only drawback to the spell was that the person never blinked, and looked like they had consumed an inordinate amount of coffee. He, for one, had never seen his classmates eyes so wide. They reminded him of Hedwigs' owl eyes, actually.

The door to Quirrels office opened slowly, the Professor had finally arrived. Ernie nudged Justin awake, while the other settled themselves in for another Defense Lesson. Professor Quirrel stepped in front of the board and wrote the word 'Curse'.

"N-n-now that we-we-we've l-l-learned the o-other s-s-s-s-ix types of s-s-spells, w-we have r-r-reached 'Curses'." he stuttered. "I-i-it-"

The Professor paused for a bit, looking at Harry.

For his part, Harry was giving him the most encouraging, and widest smile he could muster. Of course, he wasn't really used to smiling encouragingly or widely at anyone when he himself didn't feel entertained. But he tried his best. Wayne later told him he looked like he was _enjoying_ the subject matter _way_ too much. Or was about to happily murder someone. He forgot which wording his fellow 'puff actually used.

"W-w-well, y-y-es. M-m-maybe a bit of r-r-r-recitation. W-w-what is-s-s t-the de-de-definition of a cu-cu-curse?"

Harry raised his hand immediately. His unique smile still on open display. He did not notice his Professor step back a bit.

"Y-y-yes, M-mister P-potter?"

"It is the worst of the seven types of spells since it needs the intention of causing harm, control, pain, or death to work. This is why other spells which can still cause harm, control, etc. which do not need such an intent is classified under other types."

"T-t-ten points f-for Hufflepuff."

Harry's smile widened. Professor Quirrel flinched.

And so, this was how the rest of the Defense class had gone. His other classmates took his cue and started raising their hands whenever they had already read the information discussed. This had helped them all avoid trying to understand Quirrel's stutters, and also limited the amount of information they had to rely on from Quirrel to provide.

As the class ended and his classmates started to file out of the room, Harry loitered, arranging his things slower than usual before walking towards his Professor. Quirrel had his back turned to Harry and was clearing the board. He was mumbling to himself.

"-hound. ... -Snape.-..-help. ...-recognize-...-no assurance. -egg-.." The Professor finally noticed Harry.

The two merely stared at each other for a few seconds. Harry looked to the ground and took a deep breath. He did not see Quirrel's face contort, almost looking angry and feral, the Professor reached for his wand. After another second, Harry looked up, eyes focusing deep into Quirrel's. He ignored the stabbing pain in his scar, and once again _smiled_ _._

"Good luck."

Harry left the room without another word.

"Blimey. How long do you think she can keep _that_ up until her head explodes?"Justin muttered.

The Hufflepuff first years were once again in the library, studying for their upcoming exams.

"No idea. I'll tell you one thing though, I don't envy Weasley or Finnigan."

The rest nodded their heads as they watched General Granger order the two boys to follow her study-charts. They all winced when Weasley accidentally fell asleep for a second during one of the girls' rants.

"Oooh, she'll rip him a new one for that." Susan flinched.

"She's only trying to help them get their grades up. I heard they were at the bottom of our class standing. I suspect Crabbe or Goyle are the only ones below them. And Longbottom. But Neville's Herbology grade is pulling up his average. So I'm not so sure about him." Hannah whispered. "Have any of you _met_ their Mothers? They'd be killed during the summer if they don't do well."

Ernie agreed with Hannah. "That Mrs. Weasley is a nice lady and a great cook, but man, she can shout anyone's ears off."

Not wanting to witness anymore exam-purpose-abiding actions, Harry excused himself.

"I just need to get the blood circulating in my legs again."

Harry started to wander around the library, shooting a few spells at random tables. Well, after placing in a clause that exempted fifth and seventh years from activating the spells. Good thing he read about age lines and the theory behind them. After witnessing some of the stressed fifth and seventh year Hufflepuffs literally pull their hair out, he decided not to include them in the rest of his pranks that year. He think they could handle another prank right now. He was considerate that way.

He must have not been looking where he was going because the next minute, he had bumped into a rather large man.

"Oh! Sorry. Didn' see yer there."

Harry accepted Hagrid's humongous hand as he got up.

"Hullo Hagrid. What brings you to the library?"

The half-giant turned red. "Jus' researchin'."

"Yeah, a lot of that going on here." Harry chuckled. "I'm feeling a bit stir-crazy though. Too many books!"

Hagrid had a thoughtful look on his face. He glanced at Harry's black and yellow tie before having a determined look on his face.

"Do you, err, wanna see somethin' then? You can' tell anyone abou' it though. Mighty big secre' it is."

Harry was intrigued. "Sure!"

He did tell his housemates he was going to stretch his legs. He just hadn't counted on his legs taking him to Hagrid's hut. Harry was sporting a massive grin as he cuddled a large and hot baby Dragon in a baby blanket. He was so happy that he didn't even mind that it was frantically squirming and that he was sweating much more than he ever had in his entire life.

"This is amazing Hagrid!"

Hagrid was beaming as he continued tending to the fire, raising it's temperature as much as he could.

"He's a beaut int he?"

Harry nodded then frowned, thinking back to his History lesson of all things.

"But Hagrid, what about the Warlocks' Convention of 1709? Isn't it illegal to own a dragon?"

The half-giant gave out a huge sigh. "I know. I jus', I couldn' leave the little guy. An' I always wan'ed a dragon. So when I was down at the pub, an' this bloke offered to play for his egg, well.. Shor' story is tha' I won. I think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"So what do you plan on doing after he grows a bit? Aren't adult dragons.. well.. big?"

"I dunno. I reckon I'll look for a new home for 'im when he's ready."

Harry found himself in a dilemma. Hagrid was a sincerely nice fellow with good intentions. He loved animals, like Harry, and secretly broke the rules, like Harry. Hagrid was such a good secret rule breaker that he was even part of the Hogwarts staff! Yet Hagrid loved the baby dragon. That would be his undoing. If he was caught, he wouldn't be punished by a detention, like Harry would be if he was caught. Hagrid could go to jail. And Harry of upd to bear the thought of this animal-loving rule breaker behind bars. He was a chap after his own heart. Harry finally found someone he felt a bond with. He couldn't let that man go to jail. But what could he do to the baby dragon? Just charming it invisible wouldn't work. It would also one day be too big for a notice-me-not charm. Well, the version he currently knew anyway. He decided that at present, it couldn't stay at Hogwarts. Hagrid would be discovered for sure.

All of a sudden a possible solution hit him.

_"I am open to future correspondence and might even assist in a prank or two."_

Harry thought back to his letter in his dorm. He hadn't answered it yet. And the person did _offer_ to help.

"How long will it be until he'll be easily noticeable?"

Hagrid frowned. "Maybe a week or two? Dragons grow right quick. Double in two ter three weeks, I think."

"Leave it to me, Hagrid. I'll find a home for him. You just take care of him in the meantime."

"Norbert. 'is name is Norbert." Hagrid smiled as he took the baby dragon back into his arms. The baby dragon sneezed, burning away half of Hagrid's bushy beard. "Aw, look! 'e knows 'is mummy!"

Harry had wasted no time in writing his letter and sending Hedwig off to another adventure. Luckily, he had a mountain of homework to distract him while he waited for a reply. Which reminded him, he forgot to write his potions essay due the next day. He raced towards the library, hoping his dorm mates were still stuck under their own mountains of unfinished work.

In what seemed to be a snails pace, a week had already crawled on by since he had requested for help. But a reply had not yet arrived. He had been gone to Hagrid's hut as often as he could. To both their pleasures, Hagrid was wrong about the time frame. Norbert had grown twice his size within just one week. It was still a relatively small size for a dragon, especially when Hagrid was carrying him, but it also pushed Harry's timeline a lot faster than he had anticipated.

He had taken to visiting Hegwid every day after class in case she had his reply waiting for him. At the eighth day, he finally got his answer. To his surprise, it only had two words written on the back side of his sent letter. More accurately, one name.

_Charlie Weasley._

He took a deep breath and tried to psych himself up more.

"You can do it, Harry." Wayne encouraged.

"Better you than me, mate." Ernie shook his head as he continued with his charms essay.

"But if anything _does_ happen to you, can I have your owl?" Justin joked.

Harry saluted the Hufflepuffs before marching towards a certain table in the library.

"How many times do I have to tell you, _Ronald_? It's Wing- _gar_ -dium Levi- _o_ -sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

He heard Ron mumble profanities under his breath.

"Hullo there, Granger. Weasley. Finnigan."

Granger, whose hair had somehow gotten bigger and bushier in the past few weeks glared at him at first for disrupting them, before schooling her features. She sent him an apologetic look.

"Hello, Potter. Do you need anything?" she asked, slightly more polite but he could tell she was itching to get back to work.

Harry smiled. "Just need to borrow Ron for a bit, if that's alright."

She seemed torn between being helpful to Ron and remembering she was _not,_ in fact, Ron's mother. In the end, she shrugged. Ron jumped off his seat and nearly ran for the doors. Harry laughed at the traitorous look on Finnigans face as the red-head sped off.

"Thanks, mate. I thought she'd literally bite my head off if I didn't get the next question right." Ron smiled as he took a deep breath of non-library air.

"I actually need a favor." Harry told him.

"Oh?"

It was a week later when Ron slipped a piece of parchment into Harry's bag after dinner.

_Tallest tower. Midnight. Saturday._

After convincing Hagrid of the plan, it helped that Charlie was a former student and known to the half-giant, the two made arrangements to meet half an hour before midnight. When the time finally came, Harry thought that Hagrid had emotionally and mentally prepared himself for the separation. He was wrong.

the half-giants howling cries were so loud that Harry had to silence him before they entered the castle. Fortunately, it was a very dark, and cloudy night. Unfortunately, Hagrid was a half-giant and his silencio had worn off half-way to the tower. Harry was originally going to deliver Norbert alone but Hagrid insisted on making sure his baby would be well-cared for. Harry slightly regretted allowing Hagrid to come.

"I-I got 'im lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey." Hagrid whispered loudly, large tears falling on his face. At least he was _trying_ to be quiet. "An' I've packed his teddy bear too."

Harry already had his work cut out for him, making sure no one saw or heard the strange party of three. He could already feel himself grow tired from the many spells he had to re-apply to the half-giant and their dragon-carrier. Both were, unfortunately, highly spell resistant. Midnight ticked nearer and he watched as Hagrid carried the crate containing Norbert up the staircase to the top of the tower. Finally reaching the top, they breathed in the fresh cool air.

While waiting, Norbert thrashed so loudly in his crate that they almost missed the sound of four broomsticks come swooping down out of the darkness. What came next was one of the most heart-wrenching sights he had ever seen. Hagrid kept asking the handlers again and again how they were planning on transporting Norbert.

"Harness!" Hagrid was horrified.

However, after an inordinate amount of time the handlers took to explain the process to Hagrid, as well as assure him that 'yes, we do know what we are doing. We _are_ dragon handlers. This isn't our first time transporting a dragon hatchling.' Hagrid was finally saying his goodbyes to his baby.

"I'll visi' as soon as I can! I'll bring yer favori' brandy!"

Harry yawned for the fifteenth time that night. It was already two in the morning. And the constant spell work he had to cast at the door so no one could hear them, as well as a locking spell, drained his energy even more. He didn't think he could even cast a disillusion charm anymore. It was a good thing he had brought his cloak.

"I'm sorry, Harry! You go ahead. I jus' wanna say goodbye to little Norbert one las' time." Hagrid told him, tears spilling from his eyes.

And Merlin knew how long _that_ would take.

Harry thanked the handlers and patted a crying Hagrid on the back.

He made it down the staircase. Another thing he had not counted on was that he was coming from the _highest tower of Hogwarts_ , and his dorm was on the ground floor, burrowing _downwards_. He was quite a long way from home. He kept yawning as he absent-mindedly ran his fingers over the cloak in his bag. He was relishing in the warmth it gave his hand as he used the other to cover his mouth every time he yawned. Justin was right, at the moment he couldn't remember getting a wink of sleep that whole week. The Professors really were going barmy. He should let Wayne know that he agreed. As was finally nearing the Hufflepuff common room. He yawned once again, stretching both his arms and his back, before turning a corner. When he took in the sight before him, he wanted to slam his face into the wall.

"Well, well, well." Filch whispered. "we _are_ in trouble."

Bullocks.


	11. Pandora's, I mean, Potter's Box

"Do you have anything to say for yourself, Harry?"

Disappointment. It wasn't a look or feeling the young Potter heir was accustomed to have being directed at him. The Dursley's never really had high expectations of him. In fact, their scholastic _expectations_ of him started and ended with the word 'failure'. So he had never really seen the kind of look that his head of house was directing at him. That despondent expression looked foreign and out of place on the usually friendly face of his Herbology Professor.

Harry remained silent. In the past, whenever Aunt Petunia would tell him off for doing something he shouldn't have been (even if it wasn't _technically_ his fault), staying silent meant keeping his incarceration to a minimum. Any questions, explanations, and/or excuses resulted in an extended 'vacation' in his cupboard. So he learned to stay silent. To let his Aunt seethe, shout, and/or scream at him until she would simply point to the cupboard. After all, the sooner his sentence began, the sooner it ended. It had worked before, it would work again.

Filch was standing smugly to one side, Mrs. Norris going in and out between his legs. The caretaker seemed to be taking too much joy out of this. Well, if he liked 'joy' so much, he would _love_ what Harry had in store for him.

Sprout let out a deep sigh before grabbing a piece of parchment, ink, and a quill.

"Detention, Mr. Potter. This Friday." she then turned to Filch, "I shall escort Mr. Potter to his common room. Thank you, Argus."

Filch looked a bit put out at the punishment. "One detention? 'M tellin' you, Professor! I saw him the other night near the Great Hall!"

"You told me you only saw the back of a student, Argus. That student may or may not have been Mr. Potter. But we have no proof that it was Harry that you saw. So we cannot punish him for a mere suspicion. Innocent until proven guilty. His detention is for being out of bed tonight, not any other night. And until we find proof of any other late night wanderings of Mr. Potters', he will only serve this one detention."

Realizing that Harry _really_ wasn't being punished any more than was said, Filch huffed before taking his leave. He did take the time to throw a dirty look at Harry before he left though. And he was still mumbling about chains and dungeons when he closed the door behind him.

"Now that Argus has gone and punishment has already been doled out, would you care to tell me what you are doing out of bed at such an hour?" His professor asked, looking him right in the eye.

Harry just shrugged.

The stifling silence went on for a few more minutes before Professor Sprout broke it by sighing heavily. She tapped the piece of parchment with her wand and it folded itself like into a paper airplane. It zipped out of the open window.

"Just keep in mind that the rules were enforced for a reason. It would be wise to listen to them." she added, stiffly.

Harry almost visibly blanched. _Rules_. Blergh.

The walk back to the Hufflepuff Common Room was silent and tense. Professor Sprout kept her eyes forward, never looking at Harry once. When they finally reached the common room, she bid him goodnight and left.

Harry watched her depart with tired eyes. He yawned once again before making his way to his dormitory. He quickly deposited himself within his warm and comfortable sheets. He was knocked out by the time his head hit his pillow.

The next week marked the final week before the dreaded _examinations._ Aside from the heaps of notes he undoubtedly had to go through, he learned one important thing that week: that pranking any student, not just fifth and seventh years, sometimes resulted in crying, screaming, and outright breakdowns from the victi- err, students. They cried that not only did they need to study for exams, but now a significant portion of their time needed to be dedicated in reversing the prank. He had felt rather bad after a fourth year girl broke down in tears in the middle of the Great Hall as her fork and spoon started dancing around her wild mushroom soup.

For some reason, his study group had now included five Gryffindor students: Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, and Dean Thomas. The large group of first years had put together a few tables from the library, with help from the librarian of course, and had started studying together. It was both a blessing and a curse.

General Granger did not stop her fanaticism for studying, but she had spouted out a lot of things he had missed in his readings. So really, he hadn't minded her company as much as he had thought he would. And the less effort he exerted in conforming to examinations, such as searching their books for the information she spouted, the better. Ron Weasley and Seamus Finnigan would also team up with Justin as they became the comic reliefs of the group. It was nice to belt out a laugh now and again as the three boys continued their antics. Neville Longbottom was the _best_ in Herbology. Even General Granger had stayed quiet as he explained to them the various plants they would need to know about as well as the plants care and anatomy. Dean Thomas was shy at first, but amusing in his own right. When he thought no one was looking, he would make these faces about the strange things he was reading or writing.

Between studying for his classes, avoiding Sprout, and all-around trying to keep a low profile, Harry amused himself by getting himself a bit of revenge with the caretaker. His little shenanigans always kept his mood up. But no matter how much the caretakers grief amused him, Harry also missed Kirby. He had not been able to visit the three headed dog that week. Professor Sprout was keeping a close eye on him now that he had been caught. Just as he had suspected would happen.

Hagrid had actually come up to Harry in the library once. The half-giant was sobbing as he apologized to Harry. Hagrid had heard of Harry's detention and the cause of it. He promised Harry that he would try his best to at least make sure that Harry would serve his detention with him.

No matter how cautious Harry wished he really was, he did tend to take a proverbial walk on the wild side. Even with Professor Sprouts watching eye, he had not given up on his other projects. Sure, he couldn't be seen helping Sir Nicholas now, something that the ghost understood, but he did not give up on two of his favorite Professors finally reconciling.

Harry was now mentioning Defense Against the Dark Arts in front of Professor Snape more and more. During Potions class, he had raised his hand and asked Professor Snape how the current potion they were working on, the shrinking solution, could be used for Defense. The MerVamp merely looked more annoyed and sneered at him. He had also mentioned Quirrel a few times in front of the man. Commenting, now and again, how Professor Quirrel might like a certain potion that smelled strongly of garlic.

He even tried to insinuate Snape and Quirrel together. He commented to his Professor that he thought Quirrel's turban might look great on Snape, especially with his billowing robes. He lost twenty points for that. His housemates, however, found it funny enough that they hadn't been mad at him. He had also continued his rising class participation in Defense class. He really thought he was making a little headway in his little project. Both Professors looked ready to crack. He knew it was only a matter of time before the two would meet up and make up. Of course, he didn't want to see the actual event. He didn't want to traumatize himself. Just seeing Quirrel relax a bit more and Professor Snape to actually stop sneering at him would be enough.

Harry was very diligent in his goal, so he was quite pleased (and mortified) when he heard his Defense Professor in an abandoned classroom. In fact, after a particularly grueling half of study period in the library (where he pretended to reread his astronomy notes when he was in fact playing with the illustrations), he decided to award himself by taking a little stroll. General Granger merely huffed in annoyance (she had given up trying to convince him he could score higher in their year if he just gave little more effort). As he came across an abandoned corridor, he heard a familiar voice.

"No - no - not again, please "

Harry went out of his path and moved closer.

"All right - all right - " Quirrel sobbed.

He then realized what he might be listening in on. He had heard of some adults that his Uncle had called 'masochists'. A segment on certain types of people and their private hobbies were being discussed on the news. A rising trend is what the telly had said. But this was way more than Harry wanted to learn about adults inclinations. Particularly _these_ adults. As Harry was about to turn to a different corridor, he spotted Quirrel hurrying away, straightening his turban, then disappearing from his sight. Harry felt a shiver of disgust run down his spine. He did _not_ want to think of his _Professors_ in that situation. Not in this lifetime.

About a week after he was told he was going to serve detention, Professor Sprout approached him during breakfast and gave him a piece of parchment. It simply told him that his detention would be at eleven that night, and to meet Mr. Filch at the entrance hall. Harry found it ironic that he was being punished for being out after curfew by being made to be out after curfew.

His fellow Hufflepuffs had asked him why he was wandering after curfew. He simply told them that he couldn't sleep and his legs needed more stretching from all that sitting in the library. Most of them accepted his words but Wayne had given him a funny look.

And so, at eleven that night, he bid his fellow first year 'puffs goodnight as he left. They all tried to form a coherent word to bid him well, however their brains were currently in the process of turning itself into goo as they re-read their history book. Apparently, reading about Goblins could have that effect on first years. Especially those trained to take naps when those very verses were already recited to them by their ghost of a history teacher.

Filch was already waiting for him at the entrance hall. The caretaker looked equally stressed and paranoid.

"Follow me," said Filch. There was an orb of light that suddenly appeared and followed the two of them when it got dark. Filch's eye twitched every time he caught sight of the orb. Harry was surprised that the caretaker remained silent as he was led towards Hagrid's hut. Hagrid must have convinced Professor Sprout to let him facilitate the detention after all.

"Is that you, Filch?" Hagrid's booming voice sounded from behind the hut.

The two walked towards Hagrid's backyard.

"Hurry up, I want ter get started."

Filch dropped Harry off, nodded curtly to Hagrid, and left the two together.

Hagrid suddenly smiled kindly to Harry. "Sorry I couldn' give ye a friendlier welcome. Can' hav' Filch thinkin' I was goin' easy on ye."

Harry smiled back. "So what are we doing tonight?"

Hagrid's smile disappeared. "Had ter make an excuse to get ye here. An' well, the unicorns are bein' attacked."

Hagrid walked Harry towards the forest. As they were walking, Hagrid pointed out some silver liquid on the ground.

"See that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly summat. Second time this week. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing."

Harry's mind quickly supplied an image of the three unicorns he had seen in the forest before. One of them could have been the hurt unicorn they were looking for now. Or had been one that Hagrid had found hurt before. Harry quickly became serious in helping Hagrid find the hurt unicorn.

The two were silent as they walked along the dark forest. The night was calm and quiet. Only the occasional hoot of a passing owl, a rustle of leaves, or the faint sound of hooves broke the silence around them. As they reached a mossy tree stump, Hagrid suggested they take a break. Harry sat down next to the stump as Hagrid surveyed their perimeter.

"What could be attacking the unicorns, Hagrid?" Harry asked.

Hagrid looked troubled. "Only few creatures coul' really hurt a unicorn. Too pure a creature, tha' is. It must be somethin' dark. Or somethin' desperate if it wen' after a unicorn. I - WHO'S THERE?" Bellowed Hagrid.

Hagrid quickly put himself between Harry and whatever he had seen.

"Show yerself - I'm armed!"

Into the clearing, a centaur came cantering in. It had a chestnut body with a long, reddish tail.

Hagrid relaxed a bit.

"Oh, it's you, Ronan." Hagrid smiled.

"Good evening, Hagrid. Were you going to shoot me?"

Hagrid patted his crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in the forest. This is Harry Potter. He's helping me look for an injured unicorn."

"Good evening," said Ronan.

Harry nodded at him, trying to suppress the urge to ask if he could ride the centaur.

"Mars is bright tonight." the centaur continued, looking right at him. "Always the innocent are the first victims. So it has been for ages past, so it is now."

Harry felt a shiver go down his spine.

"Yeah, but have you seen anythin' strange in the forest?" Hagrid asked.

Ronan took a while to answer, his eyes never leaving Harry's. "The forest hides many secrets."

"Righ', well. if you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then."

As Harry and Hagrid left the centaur, Hagrid turned to Harry. "Never try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon."

Harry nodded, but he couldn't help but feel the centaur was warning him.

Hagrid and Harry walked deeper and deeper into the forest. Finally, they reached a fork in the path.

"Alrigh' Harry. I think we better split up. You take the path to the right, I'll take the path to the left. If you find the Unicorn or see anything strange, shoot up red sparks and I'll come runnin'. Don' worry. Tha' path is safe. I pass it all the time. But to be sure, jus' take this crossbow."

Harry's eyes grew wide when Hagrid started teaching him how to use the crossbow. It was relatively small on Hagrid, but on Harry it was a bit bigger. When he was finally able to hit a tree twenty feet away twice in succession, Hagrid and he finally split off.

He set off into the heart of the forest. He was walking for nearly a half an hour when he saw splashes of the silvery liquid on a root nearby. He quickly shot red sparks into the sky. Harry found a mossy rock next to the tree and sat down. While waiting, he began fiddling with an arrow. A grin appeared on his face as he made some _minor_ adjustments to it.

Just as he was adding the finishing touches to the arrow, a soft whine caught his attention. He quickly looked up from the crossbow and surveyed the area. The moon was bright in the sky, so he had fairly good visibility. The trees surrounding him seemed harmless enough. And the typical bushes, weeds, and dead leaves covered the forest floor. He was about to dismiss it as his imagination when he heard the whine again. It sounded more desperate this time. More pitiful.

Harry grabbed his modified arrow, determined where exactly the whine was coming from, and turned himself invisible. He quietly made his way towards the sound.

Harry's heart stopped when a familiar golden glow entered his line of sight. It was the baby unicorn he had seen before. The unicorn was on its side in a dark clearing. It was crying. And a large hooded figure was drinking from a gash on its belly. Without missing a beat, Harry shot it with the improved arrow.

A few things happened almost immediately after he released the arrow. First, his arrow found its target. Second, the arrow head burrowed itself into the creature, which triggered for the next couple of events to occur. The shaft of the arrow exploded in lights, trumpets, and confetti. A large red spark from the nock shot off into the sky and a shower of red sparks erupted. As the red spark started to descend back to earth, it exploded into a storm filled with glitters. Red, yellow, green, blue, and even hot pink glitters rained down on the creature. While it was distracted, five long gold ribbons crept their way around it. The ribbons were about to give the creature a very restricting hug, when the creature suddenly slashed them in half and bolted away.

Harry ran towards the unicorn, dropping the crossbow to the ground. Just as he reached the foal, Hagrid came bustling into the clearing. The half giant was panting, he had obviously come running from a bit of a distance.

"Hagrid!"

Hagrid saw him and quickly jogged towards him and the baby unicorn. After surveying the damage, Hagrid shook his head and looked at Harry with sad eyes. Harry felt his heart constrict. He cradled the unicorns head in his lap and whispered soothing melodies to it.

The foal was clearly in pain. It was whining softly, slowly going even softer, before it finally stopped.

Harry had tears in his eyes as he felt, more than saw, life leave the innocent.

"'m sorry Harry. If I had.. well, I never expected.. 'm sorry." Hagrid stuttered as he sat next to Harry.

The two stayed quiet for a while. Harry was sobbing openly, as he hugged the baby unicorn to his chest. He had seen, at the corner of his watery eyes, another centaur in the shadows. It saw what was happening and left quietly.

When Harry was finally able to calm down, Hagrid helped him stand.

"What do we do to... his body?" Harry asked.

Hagrid shrugged. "Wha' usually happens when a creature dies in the fores'. Nature takes 'im. 'is body feeds the trees, the other creatures. The grass. An' one day, another baby unicorn migh' feed on ta grass."

Harry only nodded. He knew this already. But he wished it wouldn't happen to this particular unicorn.

"Hagrid?" Harry whispered. "Can you keep a secret?"

Hagrid looked a bit out of sorts, but nodded all the same. "Won' tell a soul."

Harry looked him right in the eye, making sure that Hagrid knew how serious he was being. After a few minutes, he took out James and waved him around the golden unicorn.

A few things happened at once. Gold sparks from the ground, air, and trees started to coalesce towards the fallen unicorn. As the gold dust created a protective coating over it's entire body, it also lifted it. The foals legs tucked delicately beneath it, its hair was brushed carefully to the side, and it's eyelids quietly crept shut. The baby unicorn looked almost alive, merely sleeping.

Hagrid gasped at the result. He approached the foal. As Hagrid's fingers stroked the unicorn, he looked at Harry.

"I's real."

Harry nodded.

Hagrid didn't ask, and Harry didn't provide answers. The two friends just took another moment of silence for the creature before walking back towards Hagrid's hut. Harry let another tear fall when he glanced back towards the baby unicorn.

"Blimey, 'Arry. 'Ere, 'ave a cuppa."

Harry and Hagrid were back in Hagrid's hut. Harry was currently sweltering in a huge blanket, by a huge fire, with a huge cup of tea. He was feeling quite down, so he didn't protest when Hagrid basically wrapped him up, set him down, and shoved some tea in his face. Hagrid looked quite guilty about the whole thing.

"Firs' wit Norbert, now wit the unicorn.. Yer parents would 'ave my 'ead if they were 'ere." Hagrid muttered.

Harry looked up from his tea, the memory of the curious little golden unicorn fading a bit from his mind.

"Hagrid... you knew my parents?"

Hagrid was in the middle of putting a few cakes onto a plate. "Well, yeah. They wen' here. To 'Ogwarts."

Harry placed the cup of tea on the table.

As a child, Harry was quite curious. He wanted to learn why something was this way or that. How it became that way. And what it was before. He asked where the bacon came from. Who thought to milk a cow for the first time. What the sky was made of. His Aunt hated it when he asked questions. And so, his little heart couldn't bear to really ask her about anything he knew only she knew the answers to. Like why his parents were gone. All he knew was that they died in an accident, a car crash supposedly. But his uncle would sometimes slur, during drunken nights, how they had gotten themselves blown up. So he wasn't quite sure of the real story.

"Hagrid, how did my parents die?"

He saw Hagrid visibly freeze.

Hagrid turned to him. "Yer... yer don' know?"

Harry shook his head.

Hagrid put the plate of cakes down and put a chair beside Harry. He looked like he was struggling over what to say.

"Listen, 'arry. I don' know if I should be the one to tell you all o' this. Bu' I guess now's as good a time as any. Specially since everyone at the castle knows."

Hagrid was twiddling with his thumbs, and Harry was getting distracted by it. Harry placed his hand over Hagrid to stop him. Hagrid must have interpreted it as something else since he began to speak again.

The next hour or so, Harry was regaled about stories of his mother and father. James and Lily. How brave James was. How passionate Lily lived. How much they fought at first. How in love they grew to be. And finally, how much they loved him that they gave their lives to protect him.

Earlier that night, Harry walked towards the Forbidden Forest for punishment. As he walked back to castle, it was with purpose.

The next day, as once he was once again sitting in the library with his study group, he looked just like any other student in the library. He had a stack of books beside him, and he was going through them like a mad man. Although the covers of his books were just like the other students', their text was not the same. For Harry Potter had finally discovered a shelf in the library dedicated to what he wanted, no, _needed_ to know. Harry Potter was discovering his legacy.

OMAKE

Argus Filch was having a bad day. Scratch that. A bad week.

He woke up one morning expecting everything to be perfectly normal, considering he lived in a magical castle. He got up, tended to Mrs. Norris' needs, completed his morning ablutions, then prepared to spend a relaxing day cleaning the first floor of the castle. That's when it all went wrong. As soon as he reached the closet where he kept his favorite cleaning tools, he found that his mop and broom were missing. He needed them to once again clean the first floor corridor since a ghost kept flooding it. He huffed about it and searched the entire castle. If only he knew what he was in for. He finally found it at the place he was intending to use them for. Though this corridor was usually empty, it was now packed with students. They were pointing and laughing at the mop as it zoomed around the ceiling. The water that usually covered the floor of that corridor was now somehow coating the ceiling. What was more astounding was that it was not falling or dripping down. The water was defying gravity. And the bucket was no help to Filch. It was going in and out of the bathroom, refilling itself from the faucet, and literally throwing its contents onto the ceiling. The water must have been about an few inches thick. Filch's eye started to twitch when he spotted a few goldfish swimming on the ceiling. The fish were luminescent.

The next day, he was thankful to find that the water had now disappeared, and the gold fish had been relocated to the black lake. They were glowing happily around the giant squid. He was glad to see that things went back to normal. Until that night. Just as he was preparing for his nightly patrol, he noticed that Mrs. Norris was nowhere to be found. He quickly started to search the castle for her. Nearing the end of his patrol, he finally found her near the Great Hall. She was running around chasing a red dot on the ground. The red dot continued to elude her, it was zipping around and taunting the cat. The only thing that stopped Filch from merely taking her was the fact that she looked happier than he had seen in a long time.

The third day was the most frustrating day for Filch so far. For some reason, all his cleaning liquids, soaps, and powders were replaced by an odd green goo. He stopped trying to clean after coating an abandoned classroom in the stuff accidentally. He did notice how the goo picked up dust even more effectively than any other product he had. He secretly bottled a bit of it away.

By the fourth day, Filch was suspicious of every movement and every noise that he witnessed. He was harsher to give out punishment and lay terror to the already stressed students. By the time that astronomy classes ended, he had heaved a huge sigh of relief. Nothing had happened that day. He set about packing up the tower. The students had left a mess of parchments all over. He sighed as he started to pick them up. Just as his fingers touched the first piece, all the parchments started to rise up and folded themselves into paper airplanes. Filch's mouth hung agape as the paper planes whipped past him and into the passage towards the castle. He shook himself and gave chase. The planes brought him from the top of the tower to the Great Hall before heading towards the Owlery. The planes then flew to the very top and proceeded to explode into strips of spare parchment, raining down onto the owlery floor, rendering the chase (and his fear of a very messy parchment explosion) moot. The owls were perfectly happy with their newly-lined home. It was frustrating to say the least.

But oh, the fifth day. That was the day he rued the most. He was cursed. For the entire day, he was infected with a cheering charm. He smiled at the ghosts. Laughed with the portraits. Even joked with some students! One first year girl burst into tears when he complimented her white rose brooch. And when he met up with Professor Snape for patrol, he could tell that the man had thought him odd as Argus whistled along all night. But he couldn't help himself! He was cursed and none of the teachers believed him enough to lift it!

On the sixth day, he had developed a tick in the corner of his eye that wouldn't go away. If he thought he was suspicious on the fourth day, he was a hundred times worse on the sixth. He even scolded Mrs. Norris when he spotted her once again chasing around a red dot. So he took it upon himself to merely relax in his windowless office. Ah, good old Room 234-00. He was admiring his cabinets full of confiscated material, the chains hanging from his ceiling, and the general dark atmosphere of his office, when the chains started to rattle. The walls started the creak. There was a howling noise coming from all over him. He wanted to scream. The chains then started to crawl from their original positions and slithered down to the wall. Argus stood and tried to grab the chains with his bare hands, but the chains suddenly burst into light. He covered his eyes for a split second. As he looked again, his mouth was agape as he saw that the chains had turned into rails for a brand new window in his office. It overlooked the courtyard where a few students were walking and laughing in the sunlight. He sat down on his desk and wept.

On the seventh, and as he discovered it was also the last day, his day went by quite ordinarily. He snarled at students, grunted at portraits, and had a quiet early patrol with Professor McGonagall. When he and the Professor split up to cover more ground, the castle was starting to get dark. He was about to light his lamp when a soft white light appeared above him. A beautiful glowing orb followed him all throughout his nightly duties, disappearing in well-lit corridors, and getting brighter in particularly dark rooms. It was nice companion as it was silent and had a reassuring presence. As Argus Filch looked at the soft light before heading into his quarters, he couldn't help but think, "Well, that's not so bad."


	12. For the love of Dogs, Part I

For years to come, young Harry would never be able to explain quite satisfactorily how he was able to survive his first end-of-year exams.

On one appendage, he was burning with questions about his mother and father. He had no idea who to ask or how to ask these questions. Books that he had read from the library were of no use to him either. Conjecture was all well and good, except when you wanted to know what your Mum's favorite color was. He also very much doubted that his Father really liked cleansing his wand after raids in a concoction of innocent souls and phoenix tears.

On another appendage, there stood General Granger. She kept _hovering_ over him. Did she really have to throw it in his face that she was one-point-three inches taller than he? Sometimes she would ask him questions during their study period and he would get them wrong on purpose. He liked seeing her face turn puce. He missed that particular shade, as he often saw it on his Uncle Vernon. It was a lovely color, really. But no matter how lovely a puce Granger turned into, it was still a bother to him since he couldn't properly do research with her around. She scolded Ron for merely getting up to use the loo once. Apparently, " _If you have time to pee, you have time to read"._

On some other appendage, he still had his personal projects to consider. He wasn't giving up on them. He was currently at an impasse on his ghost product development. Sir Nicholas was gracious enough to ask him to continue the experiments the following year since, so far, he had only been able to bruise the ghost a bit. Not that anyone noticed. Ghost bruises, oddly enough, were silver-colored like their bodies. Harry had yet to _slice_ anything ghost-like. He was also quite upset at the lack of progress between his favorite Professor and the Mer-Vamp. The former could be seen wasting away, depressed about their state of affairs, and the latter's scowl kept steadily getting harsher as time progressed. The two probably met an impasse between each other as well. Perhaps one, to state it delicately, didn't want to be topped?

On a completely different appendage, there were also his... _shudder_... examinations that he had to think about. These examinations were preceded by oodles and oodles of fun essays. General Granger rattled on for half an hour when she saw that he reduced a three-foot minimum length charms essay to three inches. She shut up when he presented her with a perfectly respectable "A" from Flitwick. It helped that his tiny professor wrote a note on the side stating that he 'had a talent of summarizing all relevant facts into a few statements'. Though, Flitwick did also request he make an effort to lengthen it a bit more next time. Thankfully, the examinations were nearly over. And while the written exams were quite tedious, he had a lot of fun during his practicals. They were tasked to make a pineapple tap dance across a desk in Charms. Harry's pineapple _glided_ more than tap-danced. But the Professor also didn't spot the tap-dancing candlesticks on the ceiling. They were charged to turn a mouse into a snuffbox in Transfiguration. McGonagall took points off of him for still having fur and whiskers on his. He tried to explain to her that he had done this on purpose since he found the mouse to look cute. And hadn't she ever heard of themed snuffboxes? His just happened to have a mouse theme. Potions had them try to make a forgetfulness potion. He didn't know what happened but he just remembered blinking and suddenly the Mer-Vamp was once again _breathing_ on him. He took one look at his professor, then one at his empty cauldron, before astonishingly declaring that it had actually _worked_. The Mer-Vamp was not amused.

And on his favorite appendage, he really missed Kirby. Ever since his run in with the law, he still had not been by to see his three-headed friend. He realized how odd it was that he was so fond of a friend for having three heads, while trying to decapitate the only head of another. He wondered if Kirby missed him. Oh, the price he would pay just to hear his friends affectionate growls from the door to the third-floor corridor. Instead, he heard the scrapping of quill on parchment as he participated in the mass delusion that one could prove one's worth by scoring high in something that confirmed knowledge and not understanding. Ah, the frivolities of the education system.

His very last exam, unfortunately, was also a written one. And to make matters worse, it was his History exam. History was the worst. Well, he was exaggerating. He quite liked History. For some reason, he found old wizards who invented self-stirring cauldrons, and thought it was a good idea to try to ask a sphinx on a date, were oddly relatable. However, he still had disagreed with the concept of examinations. He was really debating just handing in blank papers. But the thought of what General Granger might do to him if she found out gave him pause. That didn't stop him from grabbing a pie he had stolen from dinner the night before and throwing it at Wayne's face (discreetly, of course), when Binns pronounced the exam over.

In celebration of the first years surviving their end-of-year exams, the study group agreed to spend the rest of the day by the lake. And so, a group of ragtag Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors made their way to a tree situated by the lake. Okay, so there didn't seem to be anything ragtag about any of them. Well, except for Seamus who was still trying to turn his water into rum. The boy had even taken to taking a flask full of water around with him.

"Well, that was far easier than I thought it would be," Gen. Granger liked to go through their exams afterward. Harry never understood that. It wasn't like they could do anything about it now. But he also knew that if he interrupted her, he would get his ear talked-off and then have to endure her going through the exam anyway. Personally, he was happy for two reasons: that the exams were gone; and he need not worry about more until the end of the following year.

As the more nervous members of the study group surrounded their General, Harry spotted the Weasley twins with a friend of theirs by the lake. They seemed to be tickling the tentacles of the giant squid. He smiled at them fondly. There was something soothing about the way Granger prattled on. Add to it the effect of basically watching the Weasley twins and friend bond with the giant squid? It was art in motion for Harry. Granger's soothing voice as she tried to do her best not to offend the other first years when they asked her about their answers, Fred Weasley's hair flouncing in the wind as he jumped over one of the many tentacles of the giant squid, George Weasley's large smile, almost looking like he was laughing on mute, their friends beatific grin, almost as if he knew everything about the giant squid and how to make sure Fred wouldn't be dragged in and be drowned to death. And the best part, no more of his hated exams. Ah yes, so peaceful.

"Are you listening, Potter?" Granger nearly growled.

He turned to her, shook his head and just smiled. Even her glares seemed somewhat prettier today.

After watching the twins continue trying to play jump rope using the squids tentacles, he stood up and excused himself from the group. He missed Kirby and watching the twins play with the squid didn't help matters any. So if he needed to feign digestive distress while casting a flatulence charm on himself to visit all three adorable heads, then that's what he would do. He admired the way Thomas tried to wake Finnigan after Harry walked by the latter. Seamus was about to take a sip from his flask and thus had his mouth open. Poor boy didn't stand a chance. Harry discretely pocketed the flask with the intent of charming it before letting the Irish boy 'find' it later on.

Harry was practically skipping towards the castle, his eyes closed as he whistled a merry tune. The sun was shining, the exams were over, and he was about to play fetch with a previously thought to be mythological creature. He could just see it now, he would be hugging one of Kirby's heads while another growled playfully at him, he would be playing their usual games, then he would roll around on the Cerberus' belly until they would both be so comfortable that they fall asleep. Nothing could go-BAM!

"Oh! 'Arry! Jus' in time! Wan' to have a cup o' tea at me hut for a bi'?"

Harry was severely tempted to say no. But he did have a soft spot for the groundskeeper, and Hagrid had spoken to him about his previously unknown parents. He grudgingly accepted that he had to exchange an afternoon with his giant, hairy, and three-headed friend to one with his giant, hairy, and one-headed friend.

It turned out that what Hagrid really wanted to talk about was his previously owned pet dragon. Hagrid could not stop himself and had started a correspondence with Charlie Weasley about the well-being of his baby and to inquire whether the dragon was missing his 'Mummy'. Charlie Weasley, the good chap that he was, had replied with stories about the dragon that reduced the groundskeeper to tears. Harry then, literally, spent the next few hours being politely impressed as he was regaled by the stories the dragon handler had shared. All-in-all, Charlie Weasley had written 35 letters. And Hagrid was kind enough to read them out aloud to Harry. Every. Single. One of them. If there was one thing Harry had to hand to the elder Weasley, it was that the man had an astonishing attention to detail. He was particularly moved when Charlie told them of the first time Norbert had flayed a live chicken before devouring it, burning feathers and all. The words the dragon handler had used were quite poignant. And the descriptions of the smells that wafted from that burning carcass, why, Harry felt like he was actually there!

On any normal day, Harry would have honestly been quite glad to speak to Hagrid about his baby. Unfortunately for Hagrid, Harry was getting restless about his own baby. Well, a Cerberus as cute as Kirby counted. To Harry at least. And so, Harry allowed the groundskeeper to prattle on for another half hour before waving goodbye to the gentle giant, a rock cake in hand.

'Finally!' thought Harry, as he ran towards the castle. He pocketed the rock cake as he entered. He fiddled with it in his pocket as he started to whistle once again. It sounded oddly enough like the children's rhyme called 'A-Hunting We Will Go'. He started to skip again when he reached the staircases. Yup, there was nothing that was going to go between him and his Kirby, nothing at-

"And where do you think you're going?"

Harry tried to keep the scowl off his face as the caretaker ushered him towards the Great Hall. Apparently, Hagrid had kept him for so long that Dinner was about to begin. He took a seat beside Wayne and pouted as he scooped up a bit of everything onto his plate.

"More potatoes, Harry?" Wayne asked, his mouth full of the creamy side-dish.

Harry sighed as he accepted the dish, plopping a spoon full on his plate, then passing it on. His fellow 'puffs had all been so happy that exams were over that the table was rowdier than usual. He even spotted the usually-easy-going Cedric Diggory taking a swig from his goblet that Harry was sure was filled with something Seamus would enjoy. The keeper for his house's Quidditch team, Herbert Fleet, was also right beside Cedric. Fleet taking twice as many swigs as the seeker. He suddenly noticed that Wayne's mouth was moving despite it being at full capacity. He realized that the boy had been talking to him. Come to think of it, Wayne seemed a bit pink in the cheeks, he was grinning, and his eye lids looked heavy. He merely smiled and nodded at Wayne every time he thought he was being asked a question. He quickly finished the rest of his dinner, took a swig from his own goblet (which was thankfully just full of water), then proceeded with his 15-minute per table routine.

He approached the Ravenclaw table first. Surprisingly, or rather unsurprisingly, they were discussing the examinations and the probability that they would be graded on a curve. However, as Harry proceeded to tell them about General Granger, they decided that they would probably be better off preparing their parents from the get-go. It was true that Ravenclaw was know as the house of the intelligent, but it was also true that it was the house of the quirky. Many of the Ravenclaws were quite better at certain subjects more than others. Anthony Goldstein was pants at Charms, his color change charm didn't seem to work with any other color but blue and all its shades. But he could transfigure animals into furniture faster than anyone in their year. Harry tried not to mention that Anthony also seemed to like making frilly snuffboxes, as five out of the seven he had tried so far turned out to more or less look like a bunch of doilys had been draped on them.

Harry approached the Gryffindors next. He found he didn't need to tell Seamus about what the contents of Cedric Diggory's goblet was since the Weasley twins seemed to share what was within theirs. Seamus, Ron, and Dean seemed to be quite protective of what looked to be George's goblet. Harry didn't even think Seamus noticed his missing flask yet. And he was quite flattered when they asked if he wanted a sip. After spotting a passed-out Neville Longbottom on the floor, he graciously declined. After a good time chatting with the twins and garnering a promise for a formal introduction with the giant squid, Harry went towards the Slytherin table. They seemed more haughty than usual.

"Good evening, Malfoy." he greeted as he took the spot Gregory Goyle made for him.

"Evening, Potter. I trust you found the exams easy enough."

Harry shrugged. "I expect to be satisfied with whatever I get. I'm happy as long as I don't get a troll."

Malfoy sniggered. "No one interested in how well you do back home, I take it?"

Harry paused.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" he asked.

Malfoy's grin widened. "Dumbledore's not here."

Harry turned towards the head table and noticed that Malfoy was right, the headmaster seemed to be missing.

"It's a nice reprieve to have dinner and not be blinded by whatever color of robe he chooses to wear. Some nights his choices are so garish, I debate just taking my plate to the common room." Parkinson sighed. There was a general approval throughout the table.

Harry stayed with the Slytherins the full 15-minutes, talking about Crabbe and Goyle's chances of moving up to second year, before heading off back to the Hufflepuff table. He never really noticed that they didn't like the Headmaster. Oh well, you learn something new every day.

Dinner was finally winding down, many of the students who had fallen asleep were already being shaken awake. One Gryffindor girl was actually carried by their Quidditch Captain so that she could make it back to their common room. If there was a time to fade away, it would be now. He was just about to make himself invisible when a large hand grabbed his arm. Unfortunately for him, Cedric Diggory was sloshed and declared that he was to play Chess with him in the Common Room. The upperclassman apparently wanted to see if Harry had improved since Christmas. Playing chess against a drunken Cedric was quite harder than it was to play him sober. Cedric's moves were so erratic, and his drunken friend, Fleet's, insane advice didn't make it easier. Fortunately for Harry, Cedric was pissed enough that he snoozed out midway through their third game.

He was fed up with being interrupted so he decided to use his cloak this time. He made sure the common room was more or less empty of the conscious and sober, and he quickly disappeared under the familiar cloth. As soon as he was out of the common room, he phased through walls, flew up the stairs, and even discovered a new way to get the Charms corridor from the Kitchens. He flinched at every flicker of light, and grinned at every shadowed corridor. Stealth was his middle name and nothing was going to stop him now. Nothing. The third floor corridor was so close. It was just around another corner. He could practically smell the dog excrement. He removed his cloak and-

"Potter?"

He finally arrived at the familiar corridor after a run-in with Peeves. The poltergeist, at least, hadn't screamed his presence to the whole castle. The two chatted for a bit before he promised Peeves that they would do more collaborations throughout his years at Hogwarts. Harry pressed his ear against the door to the third floor corridor. He frowned when he did not hear a familiar growl behind the wood. Before investigating, however, he suddenly realized he was not sure if he had brought snacks for Kirby. How inconsiderate of him. He put his hand in his pocket and fished for its contents. He had, of all things, a baby bonnet, a grow-your-own-warts kit, non-exploding luminous balloons, Seamus' flask, and only two marshmallows. Those would have to do.

He quietly spelled the door open and crept inside. Kirby looked so adorable as the giant three-headed dog lay snoozing on the ground. Kirby seemed to slowly awaken however, since he could hear a few whimpers and saw him stretch his legs. One head turned to him and opened a bleary eye. Before he knew what had happened, he found himself flat on his back and covered in saliva.

"Ello, Kirby. I missed you too." he laughed as the three heads started fighting on who got to slobber on him next.

The dog was so excited to see him that he started bouncing about and wagging its tail. Harry caught sight of a discarded harp and promptly transfigured it into a giant rainbow-colored rubber ball. Harry had only arrived a few minutes before but he could already feel his spirits soar. He really should have come sooner. As Harry gave a mighty heave and threw the rubber ball, Kirby went off even before he could release it. He continued to play fetch with Kirby for a few minutes, petting the head that was able to give the ball back to him. He threw the ball again and it bounced on the floor, to the ceiling and then onto a wooden door on the floor. The rainbow colored ball then rolled away, Kirby chasing after it. Harry approached the wooden door and was surprised he never noticed it before. Then again, with how cute the three headed Cerberus was, he already knew why it never caught his attention before. His curiosity got the best of him and he turned just as soon as Kirby dropped a slobbery ball on his head. He pet the left-most head before turning back to the trap door.

"Let's explore."

Kirby barked in response.

"I've got to shrink you though, so you can come. Is that alright?"

Kirby barked again.

Harry grinned as he concentrated and suddenly Kirby started to lessen in size. The humongous Cerberus became so small that he fit in Harry's pocket. He cooed at the three-headed adorable-ness before having the bright idea of taking the baby bonnet out of his pocket. He quickly multiplied it and put it on every head.

"Who's the adorable three-headed dog? I know, I know!" he murmured as he rubbed its decidedly a lot smaller belly. Kirby's hind leg started kicking like crazy, which made Harry thankful for Kirby's current size. He'd be dead by now if the dog was its normal size.

Harry quickly threw the door open and smiled when he saw a black cavernous hole awaiting him.

Of course, he did what any curious 11-year old boy would do in that situation: he jumped.

Cold, damp air rushed passed him as he kept falling. He counted in his head, only a few seconds had gone by and he kept Kirby wrapped in his arms, when he finally landed with an 'oof'. His fall was stopped abruptly by something soft, and moving. Harry quickly conjured a light and stares in awe at a veritable cornucopia of creepers swimming around beneath him, and slowly starting to hug his legs. Harry smiled.

Harry placed Kirby the puppy into his pocket, which was really larger on the inside. He clapped his hands together before going off. He dived. He levitated. He dog-darnnit swam through the vines. He was laughing so hard his lungs were soon to protest. And at the end, he smiled as he saw the end product of his efforts.

He was wrong, it was not a cornucopia of vines. It was just two main plants. They were actually planted on opposite walls. And Harry had tangled them enough that they had formed a green, slimy, make-shift rope.

"Ready?"

Now he knew why the Weasley twins were having so much fun that afternoon. Jump rope was awesome!

Harry played a few rounds before he found that the rope-plant was starting to become longer and looser. It decidedly got harder to play jump rope with a loose rope. During his final round, he noticed a door at the far corner of the room. He made a beeline towards it and waved good bye to the plants before making his way through. He snapped his fingers before leaving though, and the knot he had created at the heart of the rope untangled.

At first, all he heard was the fluttering of wings. A lot of wings. When he finally caught sight of what lay beyond the door, his heart must have stopped. Hundreds, and he did mean _hundreds_ of _shiny_ and _metallic_ keys were flying about in the air. Harry liked shiny things. He particularly liked metallic objects, as proven by his hanger wire Christmas gift and Snitch collection. But in all honesty, he was a bit overwhelmed by his desires as he stared at the sight. His mind was going to explode. He levitated himself into the crowd of keys, eyes lighting up. They flew around him, some tried to even play tag with him! Their little metallic bodies colliding with his as he flew about. This was paradise! He was sure of it!

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a large silver key with blue wings. Now, you are probably wondering why of all the keys in the room this one had caught his eye. It was because it was hurt. One of its blue wings was bent in an awkward way and it was struggling to keep aloft. He quickly flew towards it and snatched it. He landed safely on the ground and caressed it. One of the other keys must have bullied it. Harry didn't like bullies. It was coming with him. He looked around the room and spotted another door, this one had a silver handle. He made his way towards it. The key in his arms started to shudder. Harry looked at the silver sheen of the key and the silver hue of the handle. He slowly placed the key into the lock and he heard a distinct click when he turned it. No wonder this key was bullied! It was special!

He left the room right after healing the broken wing of the silver key and glaring at the others. He teleported the key to where he kept his Snitches. Those three were sure to get along.

The chamber he entered next was pitch black. Hogwarts seemed to really like the color black. Harry took one step forward and suddenly the whole chamber was illuminated. If it were even possible, the night was starting to get even better. In front of him was a giant chessboard.

"Can I play? Can I play? Can I play?!" he shouted as he ran towards the nearest King piece. It was black. He hated white. They were going to crush the white chess pieces! The figure looked towards him and nodded.

Harry looked around and sized up all the chess pieces. Almost directly in front of the Queen, a black pawn looked a little worse-for-wear. It had chips on its' body that even the other pawns did not. It looked like it had fought in an epic battle. He approached it and saluted.

"You are relieved from active-duty. God speed, soldier."

The pawn bowed then bounced away.

Harry stood up straight as he took it's place. He glared at the white pieces across the board.

And so it begun.

Young Harry Potter was, admittedly, new to the great game of chess. However, he was a fast learner. After Cedric Diggory had taught him to play, Harry had beaten every single other first year Hufflepuff twice. He even got to a stalemate with Diggory on more than one occasion. However, this game was the hardest he had ever played. Every time one of their men had fallen, the white pieces would brutally make sure it could no longer return to active duty. This made Harry mad.

To see a pawn travel as much as Harry throughout the board was different from the typical chess game. But Harry doled out as much violence as his team received. His most recent crowning glory came from taking the white knight. That guy was a right bastard in the way it trampled on the other pawns.

After a while, Harry realized that he was going to lose. He did not like to lose. Cedric Diggory taught him better. He-

It felt like a bolt of lightning went straight into his brain. Cedric Diggory. He had played against the older boy that very same night. It was damn near impossible to form a strategy against him. That was because the boy was _sloshed_. It was impossible to predict his movements. Their first game was honestly a sight to behold. Cedric wove such a random tapestry of moves and suddenly finished the game with the use of a castle. Harry could do the same.

And so it went. The battle was hard fought. It was random. The white pieces viciously destroyed the remaining pawns. He was on his own. He only had the King, a castle, two bishops, and a knight left. But the white pieces hadn't seen his master plan yet. They underestimated him since he was a pawn. They were currently nearing the edge of the black side of the board. They were starting to surround his King. He would show them.

They were all staring at the bishop a few blocks directly diagonal from their still stationary King. The white Queen turned towards it, slowly creeping forward. She raised a hard hand and back handed the bishop. It fell to the ground in rubble and dust. Harry gulped. But he was determined. He took a step forward and reached the very end of the board, on the white side. Almost as soon as his foot touched the square, he started to glow a pale blue. His robes changed. When it all faded, he turned to the King with a smirk on his face. The new Queen had arrived.

A few moments of cat and mouse happened next as the King realized it had nowhere to go and its troops were too spread out to help. Finally, a white crown fell to Harry's feet.

Harry bowed to all the pieces, after sending a bit of his magic to restore their stone bodies. He removed the black crown on his head and gave it to the pawn he had replaced. With another wave, he raced off towards the door at the other end of the chamber. With a puppy in his pocket and a spring in his step, he turned the door handle. He couldn't wait to see what else lay in store for him.


	13. The Last Enemy

Unlike many of his peers, Harry James Potter had a complicated relationship with doors. Well, a door, a barrier, a hindrance, or a determent. These were all the same to the Potter heir. They were symbols of limits. However, opening a door could symbolize an infinite number of possibilities. And really, the number of things that can be done to a door was also quite vast. Examples of this, that were in no way affiliated with the number of things that Harry himself had done to those vile blockages, were the different techniques he-err-any Hogwarts student could employ to coerce-ahem-convince doors located within the castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to open for -err- the aforementioned Hogwarts student were vast. Some were tickled. Some were spoken to in limerick. Some were even set on fire (reminder: always remember to repair these particular doors after use).

Opening a door felt almost the same to him as breaking the rules. They were limits. He despised limits. But once these were broken? Well, this young lad was one happy camper. And despite the number of people that would say he looked terrifying when he smiled (albeit, behind his back), he did not let that silly little fact deter him.

And so, moments before he opened the door from the chess room, he let a whirlwind of ideas splash into his mind. The next room could be filled with marshmallows that he had to use as trampolines to get to the other side. It could be filled with locusts that he had to teach to play the violin, creating a whole new type of symphony that could be feasted on with the ears and the mouth. It could even be filled with horse shoes that he had to attach to parrots while teaching them to neigh. Who was he to know? And he loved the idea of there being endless possibilities awaiting him at every closed door. So without further ado, he wrenched the door open.

Fetor. It is defined as a strong, foul smell. He could not think of any other one word to describe the wretched waft of rotting flesh that assaulted his poor unsuspecting nostrils. Kirby started to growl within the confines of his pocket at the extremely poignant odor. His eyes started watering and he had to use almost all of the self control he had not to vomit. As he walked into the room, he quickly set up an air filter around his person. He had no intention of vomiting today. And allowing poor Kirby to breathe in that fetor was just plain animal abuse.

Once he could breathe properly again, he wiped the tears out of his eyes. His vision somewhat returned to normalcy and he took in quite a familiar sight: an unconscious troll. He tiled his head a bit and looked at the situation calmly.

The troll was lying face down on the floor. It's body was almost completely in a straight line from where he was standing, with the troll's feet being closest to him. Where it's head was supposed to be, a bloody lump was in it's place. Harry could only come to a single conclusion. Someone out there gave one hell of a noogie. He made a mental note to practice this as well. Who knew that schoolyard trick could have so many applications to larger creatures? He gave himself a mental kick to the head for not thinking of it sooner. The art of a noogie can be applied to creatures larger than the noogie-er. Though, he had to experiment on said strength of the trick. He wouldn't want to accidentally noogie off someone, or somethings, head off.

He ignored the troll, grabbed one of his last marshmallows from his stuff-filled pocket and placed it in his puppy-filled pocket, and proceeded to set the next door on fire. It erupted in green flames. He grinned at the color and stepped into the barrier.

Well. He did not expect this. And he liked not expecting things. His grin grew wider. What hidden tricks did this room have in store for him? The last room had been more than a bit of a let down.

In the middle of the room was a table, and on this table were seven differently shaped bottles standing in a line. He stepped over the threshold and his green flames were immediately replaced by purple ones. He pouted. He liked that shade. It was the same color as his eyes. He shook his head and turned back to the table. He noticed a doorway behind the table. This one had erupted into black flames. He grinned a bit at that. If he didn't have flames the color of his eyes, at least he had them in the same color as his hair.

He first ignored the table and started to look around the room. It was a very dull room, despite the interesting bottles it had at the center. It was plain and its stones were a very inspiring shade of grey. He didn't like that. The flames were colorful. Certainly not normal-colored flames anyway. Why should the room suddenly look as dull as can be? He stepped up to the table and spotted a piece of parchment next to the bottles. He unraveled it.

The young boy even cackled as he read the riddle the room presented to him. He lifted Kirby out of his pocket and conjured a swivel chair. He sat on it and started to stroke Kirby's three heads (one at a time, of course). The black flame was reflected on his glasses as he contemplated the riddle before him. A stray thought also entered his contemplation: maybe he was getting a little bit too dramatic?

He took in the look of all seven bottles. Three were filled with poison, two were filled with wine. One would let him through the black fire, and the other through the purple flames (which really should be green flames, in his opinion). His clues were: poison bottles were to the left of the wine bottles; the two bottles at the ends were not filled with the same liquid; the smallest and the largest bottles were not filled with poison, and; the second bottles from the left and right held the same kind of liquid. Well, that was easy. He stood, while still carrying Kirby, and took out Seamus' flask from his pocket. He brought forward the bottles with wine in them and proceeded to empty them into the flask. It wasn't rum, but he hoped Seamus would enjoy it nonetheless.

He grabbed the smallest bottle and stared at it. Then he glanced at the black flames. Hmm. He walked over to the black flames and felt an odd sort of heat emanating from it. He looked down at the innocent little three-headed dog in his arms. All three heads looked at him questioningly, the left one even tilted its head a bit. He smiled at Kirby before snuggling the cute little Cerberus. He wanted the little guy safe through the flames too. He flipped the stopper off the small bottle and took a hearty sip. What could only be described as an inner chill passed through him. His insides felt like liquid ice, otherwise known as really really cold water, traveled from his lips to his stomach. He liked to compare the sensation to the feeling of warm soup in your belly. Except the 'soup' wasn't warm in any way, shape, or form. He shivered a bit. He grabbed the last marshmallow in his pocket and placed some of the potion on it. He divided the marshmallow into three pieces and fed it to Kirby. The little puppy gobbled it all up before shivering then giving off a mighty sneeze. Harry giggled. Kirby was just so adorable.

The puppy then started to wiggle out of his hands so Harry placed him on the floor next to him. Kirby started to bark at the fire and Harry suddenly wanted to play a new trick with Kirby. He took one of the empty bottles and transfigured it into a very large hoop. He cancelled the spell on Kirby and watched as the Cerberus returned to it's full size. Looking at the doorway, he knew that Kirby would fit through. He quickly lifted the hoop in front of the fire.

"C'mon Kirby! Jump through the hoop!" he laughed gleefully.

The three-headed dog seemed to understand him as he started backing up in preparation.

"You're such a smart puppy!" Harry smiled.

Kirby started running towards the hoop and leaped through. Unfortunately, his foot caught on the bottom and Harry was pulled through the flames with Kirby. Harry landed on the other side with an 'oof' and started laughing. He wasn't seriously hurt, but the stone ground did scratch up his elbow a bit. Kirby started to growl. Harry turned to reassure the puppy that he was fine.

"It's alright, Kirby. We can work on-"

The sound of a lone trombone stopped Harry in his tracks. At the same time, Kirby started to yawn and slowly lowered himself to the ground, eyes quickly drooping closed.

Harry turned to face where the music was coming from and he felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"Ahh, Mr. Potter." Professor Quirrell greeted him amicably, though there was a glint in his eye that Harry could not place.

Harry's insides felt like they were being frozen, and this time not by the potion he had ingested.

"Err... I-" all of Harry's excuses as to why he was in a forbidden corridor flew from his mind when, with a snap of the Professors fingers, ropes materialized and wrapped themselves around him.

Harry fell to the floor with a dull thud. He couldn't help but think that this was a bit excessive for being caught out of bounds and out past curfew. Even Filch merely threatened hanging him by his thumbs in the dungeons. But the man never actually went through with it. Huh. Before he could contemplate further, he noticed his Professor was speaking again.

"I'm quite surprised to find you here. You have been silent this whole year, nary a second glance at p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell. In fact, a model student. You seem to try very hard. And you get nothing but average marks from it. So eager to learn, but so limited by the extent of your abilities. Oh I've heard all about you, Mr. Potter. But I was so very... disappointed in what I found. You're nothing but a little boy who merely survived. There's nothing special about you at all, is there?" his Professor cackled.

Harry couldn't help but stare. That was the longest he had heard his Professor speak the entire year. He didn't know whether to congratulate himself on his average appearance, which he had aimed for, or scolding himself for making his favorite teacher think so lowly of him. Feeling the thick rope scrape across his new elbow gash, he winced. He still thought the ropes were a bit excessive.

"Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror."*

For the first time, Harry noticed the mirror standing at the center of the room. It's thrum of power felt all too familiar to Harry, and he realized that he had encountered it once before. The ornate gold frame with two gold feet. Yes. This was the mirror he had encountered last Christmas! The Headmaster had distracted him from really looking at the frame last time. But now that the flames were lit the frame so beautifully, Harry's fascination with shiny (particularly gold) objects stirred. It was quite dark last time too.

"This mirror is key to finding the Stone," Quirrel murmured, taping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this... but he's in London... I'll be far away by the time he gets back..."*

For some reason, Harry was finding it hard to concentrate on his predicament. Instead, he wiggled until he was in front of the mirror, albeit he was a fair bit away from it.

He saw himself reflected back at him, he was down on his side and his glasses were a bit askew. But he was still smiling. He really couldn't understand why the Professor was observing the mirror quite that intently. He admitted that it was a pretty mirror. Certainly felt powerful. But the beauty of the mirror, for him anyway, lay in its frame. The Professor was mostly ignoring the frame, concentrating on the actual mirror portion and its backside. It was just a regular mirror, wasn't it? Nothing special-

His reflection winked at him.

His eyes widened a bit.

Quirrell came back from behind the mirror and stared into it, blocking Harry's view of his reflection.

"I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my master... but where is it?" Quirrell murmured. He then started to curse under his breath. "I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Harry, for his part, was ignoring his Professor and was trying to wiggle his way around to get a view of himself in the mirror. This proved to be a bit hard considering his Queen-style robes were puffed up from the waist down. He was not used to wiggling on the ground with so many layers of cloth hindering his actions. Never mind that he was also tied up with thick ropes. But his reflection winked at him! He was sure of it! It merited further investigation! Quirrell was right! The mirror was special!

His mind was racing.

'What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment', he thought, 'is to find something amazing.'

Quirrell, on his part, continued to ignore Harry and kept talking to himself.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"*

A hiss escaped from somewhere in the room and Harry's flighty attention quickly turned to it, momentarily forgetting the winking reflection. He swiveled his head around, as best he could anyway, trying to find the source of the sound.

"Use the boy... Use the boy..."*

Quirrell rounded on Harry.*

"Yes- Potter- come here."*

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry slowly got to his feet.* He stretched his limbs and jumped up and down a bit to encourage the blood to circulate in his legs.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry dusted off his robes and walked towards the mirror. Quirrell moved close behind him and Harry nearly gagged. There was a distinct smell that wafted off his Defense Professor. Harry had never been that close to the man before, and his nose confirmed to him that the smell was coming from the mans turban. In an effort to move away from the smell, and have at least a gulp of fresher air, Harry stepped closer to the mirror.

Just as he had seen in his previous encounter with the mirror, he merely saw himself reflected as he was. His hair was disheveled and his robes were all wrinkled from his wriggling about on the floor. However, just as it did earlier that night, his reflection winked at him.

Harry winked back.

"What do you see?" Quirrell rushed out.

"Myself..." Harry stared at Quirrell as if the man were insane. "It's a mirror... what was I supposed to see?"

Quirrell cursed. "Then why did you wink!" the man bellowed.

Harry blushed. "I think I look good in my robes." he mumbled quietly.

Rule-breakers rule...err.. guideline number 1, never tell the truth to a figure of authority. Especially if the truth sounds directly like a lie. It is better to be thought of as stupid than sly.

Quirrell cursed once again.

Harry looked back at his robes in the mirror, he was still dressed as the Black Queen. Well, no matter what Quirrell thought, he thought the robes looked good on him. Even his reflection thought so. Err. Maybe.

His attention was once again on his reflection as he spotted his mirror-self suddenly take a something from it's pocket. It was a blood-red stone. It sparkled in the fire light and Harry couldn't help but think, 'Mine!'. His reflection winked again before smirking and placing the Stone back in his pocket. Harry felt a weight drop in his own pocket. Did his mirror self just give him something amazing? But the act of actually getting something from his mirror-self was amazing in itself! Now he had a shiny red Stone as well!

He hadn't actually thought of interacting with the mirror world before, but he guessed that this particular rule could be crossed out as broken. Now he wanted to travel within it. Harry reached out to touch the mirrors surface.

Quirrell pushed Harry aside.

"Get out of the way, you conceited cretin!" Quirrell cursed.

Harry landed on his buttocks. He was suddenly thankful that a Queens robes had so many layers to it.

"He lies... He lies..." the disembodied voice spoke up again and Harry started looking around the room, trying to spot where it came from.

"Potter!" Quirrell barked. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"*

Harry, still distracted by the disembodied voice realized that he was being addressed by Quirrell. "Oh! Err.."

The voice spoke again. "Let me speak to him... face-to-face..."*

"Master, you are not strong enough!"*

"I have strength enough... for this..."*

Harry, still quite comfortable despite being on the ground, stared as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. He was so confused as to what his Professor was doing, and was about to ask, when the turban fell away. Professor Quirrells head looked amazingly small. Harry couldn't help but pity him. Was that why the Professor wore a turban? To hide his disfigurement? He must have had a hard childhood.

Before Harry could begin to imagine a child-version of his Professor being taunted and teased by other children, Quirrell slowly turned on the spot. Harry's eyes widened. It was even worse! There was a face, a most terrible face, staring from the back of Quirrells small head. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Harry Potter..." it whispered.

Harry continued to stare. "Professor... is this... your... conjoined twin?" His mouth was dropped open.

The face looked disturbed. "Do you not know who I am? What I have become? Mere shadow and vapor..."

'You don't look like mere shadow and vapor to me...' Harry couldn't help but think. The face looked very solid on the back of his Professor's head.

"I have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds..." the face continued.

'So... not a conjoined twin then. Maybe more of a parasite?' Harry quickly touched the back of his head. He hoped to any deity that the parasite was not contagious.

"Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past few weeks..." Harry dropped his hand. His mind reeling. A mental image of the golden unicorn flitted into his minds eye. "You saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest... and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... Now... why don't you give me that stone in your pocket?"

Harry's eyes were unfocused. This was the person responsible for the death of the baby unicorn. Almost as fast as his thought process ground to a halt, it started to speed back up again.

Harry reached into his pocket, mentally cataloging the objects he had found in there earlier. Finding what he needed, he smirked, his anger suddenly appearing in his emerald eyes.

"Give me the stone, Potter!" Quirrell screamed, as his arm unnaturally bended backwards trying to get at him.

Harry pulled his pack of non-explodable luminous balloons out of his pocket, he charmed them all blood red before releasing them into the room. They all started to inflate, approximately to the same size as the shiny red Stone his reflection had given him, and started to spread across the room.

Some of the balloons hit the serpentine face and it roared in fury. Quirrell quickly fell to his knees, checking each blood-red balloon, trying to find the Stone. Harry ran to the other side of the room, where Kirby was snoozing. There was a brass trombone playing nearby. It's music kept the Cerberus from waking so Harry did the first thing that flashed across his mind: he chucked the blood-red stone into its bell, blocking the air from coming out and making a noise. The stone got lodged inside with a clang.

The noise alerted his Professor of the location of the real Stone, and Quirrell actually snarled at him. Getting back on his feet, the Defense Professor practically dove for the trombone as it lied useless on the floor.

A growl escaped from behind Harry as Kirby started to awaken. Almost faster than Harry could catch, the three-headed dog leaped towards Quirrell. And Harry quickly grabbed one more object from his pocket. It was his grow-your-own-warts kit. He followed after Kirby and chucked the prank dust to his Professor's face.

Instantly, his Professor's face started to bubble and warts started to grow to ridiculous sizes. Harry glanced at the packet and read the directions and warning label for the first time.

Directions: Just use a pinch or two for a face not even a Mother could love!

WARNING: Use of full packet in one use can cause either or all of the following: excruciating pain, black outs, loss of eye sight, warts inside open bodily cavities, death, and in rare cases, tooth decay.

'Err.. whoops?', he thought.

His Professor clutched at his bubbling face and cursed Harry loudly. Kirby was still rolling around with Quirrell, all three heads trying to bite the man. Despite his Professor's predicament with the warts, he was able to keep Kirby off him as he twirled his wand quickly and expertly. Kirby kept being pushed back to the wall, but the puppy was nothing if not persistent. Harry was about to join the fray when his eyes caught something shiny nearby. The previously brass trombone. It was now shinning and golden. The flames reflected off it beautifully.

Harry's heart leaped at the thought. He ran to the trombone instead and quickly stuck his hand into the bell. His fingers grasped the Stone and he pulled it out. This stone made things shiny! He was keeping it. He quickly sent it to the place he kept his Key and Snitches.

Harry turned to Kirby and his Professors scuffling. What he had not noticed was that the trombone started to play once again, now that the stone was out. Kirby, looking none the worse for wear, was falling back asleep.

His Professor seemed to have passed out because facing him this time the serpentine face. Even the parasite did not escape from the warts powder. it had large boils growing at the top and a particularly nasty in the middle of its serpentine nostrils. It was hissing at him as it maneuvered Quirrells body backwards and strode towards him at a quick pace. Warts were also growing on all the exposed flesh on his Professors body, his skin was still bubbling and reacting to the powder.

Harry stood rooted to the spot when the man grabbed his shoulders, shouting at him.

"Give me the stone!"

Quirrells hands were now bubbling and smoking. And Harry felt the warts smoke and burst on his shoulders. He saw that his Defense Professor had now awoken and was now screaming. Without pausing to think whether it was a good idea or an idiotic one, Harry wrapped his arms around his Professor and held on tight, as one would encase a loved one in a hug before saying goodbye for a long time. He tried to restrict the movements of his Professor and the parasite now facing him. He prayed that none of the powder would stick to him and send him into a similar fate. He made sure to only touch the clothed parts of his Professor.

More smoke started to rise from Quirrells flesh and Harry could smell fire all around him. Fire, burning flesh, and the pungent odor of the grow-your-own-warts powder. It smelled horrible and before long, darkness claimed him.

Have you ever woken from a very long and exquisite nap? You feel inexplicably warm, as if your entire body is still in that state between asleep and drowsy. Your limbs are slow to react. Your head feels like its stuffed with cotton, as if your brain had it's own pillow in there. Your eye lids are heavy. But you open them anyway, slowly.

Harry glared immediately. His mind waking up at the disgusting sight in front of him. Well. He technically couldn't really see. He wasn't wearing his glasses. But he could see enough to realize that wherever he was, it was WHITE.

A chuckle caught his attention and he squinted to a blurry figure on his right. He spotted something gold and quickly reached for it. The blur chuckled again. Something black was placed in his hand, instead of the gold he was aiming for.

"These are yours, Mr. Potter," the blur chuckled again.

Harry quickly realized that the black thing the figure had handed to him were his glasses. He put them on and almost winced when he saw that his Headmaster was sitting next to him. He looked around, trying not to wince at all the white, and realized he was in the Hospital Wing.

He also realized that he was probably found in the forbidden corridor, and hugging a much-older Professor, next to a snoozing three-headed dog.

The heart-to-stomach dropping and insides-freezing sensation tore at him again.

"Sir! I- The third-floor corridor. I mean, I-" he panicked.

"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times, " said Dumbledore. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."*

Harry had to think back, he realized that Dumbledore was probably talking about the blood-red stone his mirror gave to him. The blood-red stone that was currently with his two snitches and flying key. He quietly summoned it to his hand. He also realized that he was now in pyjamas. His robes, which had turned back into his school uniform, was on a chair to his left. He sent the Stone into his robe pocket.

"Err... Yes, Sir. It's not." Harry shuffled a bit, reaching over into his pocket, taking the Stone, and showing it to the Headmaster. "Err... I sort of... took it."

Dumbledore's face showed a myriad of emotions, almost all at once. First, amazement. Then, denial. Then, awe. Then, the old man laughed.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore smiled widely, "I believe that Mr. Flamel owes you his deepest gratitude."

Harry was almost tempted to put the Stone back in his pocket, however Dumbledore was quicker and the Stone now disappeared into the older mans star-covered robes. Harry hid his frown by glancing surreptitiously to his left. His bedside table was piled high with what looked like half the candy shop. His eyes bugged out at the sight.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore beaming. "What happened between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it would not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

Harry nodded, only half-listening, as he reached over and grabbed a chocolate frog. he unwrapped the little critter and immediately stuck the struggling frog into his mouth. He smiled as his tastebuds exploded with chocolate-y goodness. He remembered hearing that chocolate was like poison to other creatures, like dogs. His eyes widened.

"Professor, about Kir- I mean, the Cerberus-"

"Ah, yes. Hagrid has taken the Cerberus with him. Fluffy will be happier in a proper facility for magical creatures. Thankfully, the dog did not suffer any lasting injuries with the scuffle." Dumbledore informed him with a smile. "He will be well taken care of there."

Harry frowned. He swallowed the last of the chocolate before turning once again to his Professor.

"Sir, will I be serving detention?"

It was Dumbledore's turn to frown this time. "Whatever for, dear boy?"

Harry's eyes only widened for a fraction of a second. Hold on. Did they... not... know... that he was in the forbidden corridor? That he had gone out of bounds? That he was out of bed past curfew? Was he really getting out of this scot free? He quickly bac tracked.

"Professor Quirrel. I mean, he..."

"I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you. I feared I might be too late." Dumbledore smiled once again. "You have extraordinary luck, my dear boy. Once again, you have been able to thwart Voldemort's plans. Speaking of which, do you have any last questions? I need to see Nicholas about his Stone. People already think it has been destroyed. I do not see reason to make them think otherwise. It will be our little secret, now won't it?" Dumbledore's eyes were sparkly. Harry had never noticed before. He shook his head to clear it.

He opened his mouth to ask so many things. Was Voldemort the parasite at the back of Quirrell's head? Did Dumbledore know about the dead baby unicorn and who was responsible? He felt a sting of anger and grief as he remembered it. Did the warts powder really cause his Professor to burn? Shouldn't the makers be notified of the incident? Would he ever see Kirby again? Was Kirby actually Hagrid's pet? Speaking of Hagrid, he remembered the man speaking to him about James and Lily Potter. And suddenly, all those other thoughts flew out of his head.

"Sir... Will you tell me about my parents?"

Dumbledore looked taken aback. "Your Parents?"

"I... I can't find anything really about them, Sir. I never knew them. But Hagrid told me some things. But he wasn't close to them. I just-"

Dumbledore smiled sadly at him. "Of course my dear boy. I cannot claim to know them quite as well as I had hoped, but I did have the pleasure of being the Headmaster in their tenure here."

And just like in that day at Hagrid's hut, Harry felt his heart glow at the stories of a man and woman he had never met. A while later, when the Headmaster had finally gone and Harry was left alone in the room of white, he lay back down in bed. He closed and eyes, and smiled.

Despite being in a room that was primarily the color he loathed. Despite being in an unfamiliar and cold bed. Despite still having a mild headache from everything. Despite knowing he probably would not see Kirby for a while, at least until he could ask Hagrid where the Cerberus would not be housed. Despite being tired and energized all at the same time, Harry couldn't help but think that this was a good day for him. He had escaped punishment. He was secured in his rule breaking, at least for the time being. And he suddenly just felt content for the moment.

His minds flew to the books he had read and the stories he had heard. He imagined a man and a woman, faceless to him. But even just the thought of them brought a strange feeling of warmth to him. If Harry had been facing the Mirror of Erised at that moment, he would no longer see merely his reflection smiling back at him. And maybe he would be able to finally have faces to match his imagination. Alas, he shook his head, and reached over to his bed side table. It did not do to dwell on things he could not change. It was now time to try his luck with Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

As he savored the taste of a grass-flavored bean, he suddenly had a thought. With a yellow-colored bean half way to his mouth, his mind started to go into overdrive. Could he really not change anything? A mysterious glint appeared in his eye. Maybe. Maybe not. But. Hmm.

He choked on the puke-flavored bean as he mentally added another rule to his list to be broken. His many many more years of rule breaking suddenly looked that much more interesting.

Authors Note: Year 1 done! I can't wait to start Year 2. Up next: Chapter 14 - The Worst Birthday


	14. The Worst Birthday

Not for the first time since he had gotten back, little Harry Potter let out a huge sigh. It was only the fact that he was currently uncomfortable enough that his mood did not warrant him breaking out in green goo. And what, you may ask, would bring our young hero to such a deplorable state? Short answer: his cupboard. Long answer: He was currently not in his beloved cupboard, his refuge, his haven,the greatest four walls housing the greatest floor space ever.

He was laying moodily on his new (third-hand) bed in the far wall of what once was Dudley's second bedroom. Quite honestly, there was nothing inherently wrong with where he was at the moment. It was more of what the room was lacking that had not settled well with him. Where was his slanted ceiling? His spider friends? His little hanging light bulb decorated with his shiny clothes hanger? His cot? He liked stretching his legs up from his cot and placing his feet on his slanted ceiling. He liked reaching out and being able to touch both walls by just stretching. He liked pretending he was a giant in his little hide-away. He liked staring at the shiny light bulb with his shiny clothes hanger and swinging it to amuse himself. Basically, all of the things that made his cupboard unique (in his mind at least) was missing from this room. In this room, he had felt so small. Which was also probably the reason he had curled in on himself on the larger relatively new bed.

It had all started when the Dursleys picked him up from King's Cross Station. He was quite surprised to see them there, he was already expecting to light speed travel himself and his things to his cupboard. However, the sight that greeted him was of all three Dursley's at the other side of the barrier.

"And where do you think you've been off to?" his Uncle ground his teeth at him.

"Stonewall," he deadpanned.

In retrospect, he might have spent a bit too much time with the twins during the school year. He was certainly paying for it now. When they had arrived at Number Four, he had been made to lock all his wizarding things in his beloved cupboard and was forced to take residence in smallest bedroom of the house. It was easily four or even five times bigger than his cupboard. His Uncle basically had to wrench him out of his cupboard (despite it being nearly full with his things) since he was hanging on to the walls like a monkey. He was then plopped (body-slammed) onto the "new" bed and locked in. Oh, how he hated it.

Nearly everything in the room was broken. There was a bunch of random odds and ends that Dudley had broken in varying ways and were sporting various degrees of damage. The only thing that was changed with his arrival was the bed he was currently occupying. The old bed had apparently collapsed when Dudley threw himself on it in an effort to prevent Harry from taking the room in the first place. He sincerely lamented over the fact that he had not been present during this particular Dudley-tantrum. His cousin still complained about the bruise on his bottom.

One of the few bright sides in this arrangement, however, was that he found that the room had a bunch of loose floor boards that he could hide his things in. He had already light speed traveled back to his cupboard and taken them into the smallest bedroom. He left decoys behind, of course (transfiguring some of the aforementioned Dudley odds and ends into duplicates of his things. It did not bode well for him if he was caught, after all). His trunk and things were all under the loose floor board now, shrunk for convenience.

In fact, his shrunken books were some of his only escapes from the dull life at Number 4. Well, other than the fact that he observed that the Dursley's were exponentially more jumpy around him. He had once approached Dudley to let him know that Aunt Petunia was calling for him, when his cousin literally jumped up and ran to the kitchen as Harry approached. He didn't even know Dudley could move so quickly. His Aunt and Uncle had also taken to more or less ignoring Harry had existed (except to make him do chores. But who was he kidding? He kind of liked chores. He often experimented while doing them). Overall, it seemed to be a dull-as-a-brick-that-doesn't-even-fly summer for him.

There was a loud knock on his door.

"Get Up! It's time to cook some breakfast! I don't want my baby wasting away!" his Aunt's shrill voice called from the other side.

Of all the chores his relatives had assigned to him, cooking had to have been one of his favorites. It kind of felt like potions class to him (but without the MerVamp breathing on him). He quickly fired up enough bacon and eggs to feed a dozen people that were not Dursley-sized (His Aunt didn't count. She was technically not genetically a Dursley).

Harry sighed as he slipped a few of the ready bacon onto a plate for Dudley. He missed his cupboard, and he would stare at it longingly every time he passed by it. Theoretically, he could just sleep in it. His relatives never did check up on him at night. But his young mind was literally too shocked at the change of scenery that the idea hadn't even crossed it. Ah well.

The kitchen was quickly filled up by genetically-Dursley-residents the minute the plate of bacon was lain on the table. The Dursley's, genetic and by-law, sat around and started to eat. Harry was given a piece of bread and a bowl of oatmeal for his breakfast. He was sorely tempted to make his classic breakfast sandwich but he also knew that hell would freeze over before Dudley left even bacon bits over. That boy ate bacon like pigs were about to sprout wings and fly away before more bacon could be made. Harry giggled a bit at the mental image of Dudley chasing after flying pigs, while a herd of townsfolk chased after Dudley (the townsfolk thinking Dudley was a flightless pig).

Uncle Vernon cleared his throat. "Now, as we all know, today is a very important day."

Harry shook his head to release his humorous mental image that now consisted both Dursley males chasing and being chased.

"This could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career," said Uncle Vernon.

The young Potter heir had to hold back a snort when Dudley surreptitiously stole a piece of bacon from his Father's plate as Uncle Vernon was otherwise occupied.

"I think we should run through the schedule one more time," said Uncle Vernon. "We should be in position at eight o'clock. Petunia, you will be-?"

"In the lounge," said Aunt Petunia promptly, "waiting to welcome them graciously to our home." She sounded like she had been repeating this line twice a day for the past two weeks.

'Oh, hold on,' Harry thought, 'she has!'

"Good, good." His Uncle smiled at his wife as if he hadn't heard her exact answer before. "And Dudley?"

Dudley had to choke down his stolen bacon quickly before answering. "I'll be waiting to open the door."

Harry snickered a bit (albeit, very quietly) when Dudley had to take large gulp of chocolate milk before he could speak again.

Dudley put on a foul, simpering smile (not in the least improved by his chocolate milk mustache). "May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"

"They'll love him!" cried Aunt Petunia rapturously.

"Excellent, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon. Then he rounded on Harry. "And you?"

Harry smiled brightly at them all. "I'll be in my bedroom, making no noise, and pretending I'm not there."

"Exactly," said Uncle Vernon hastily, turning away from Harry's bright smile. "I will lead them into the lounge, introduce you, Petunia, and pour them drinks. At eight-fifteen-"

"I'll announce dinner," said Aunt Petunia.

"And Dudley, you'll say-"

"May I take you through to the dinning room, Mrs. Mason?" said Dudley, standing up (albeit wobbly as he did so), and offered his arm to an invisible woman.

Aunt Petunia looked like she wanted to cry, "My perfect little gentleman!"

Harry wanted to cry too. From his angle, he could see that his cousin had bacon bits on his bottom. How it got there was really any ones guess. It took a lot out of him to smother down the laughter in the back of his throat.

"And you?" said Uncle Vernon viciously to Harry.

"I'll be in my room, making no noise, and pretending I'm not there." Responded Harry dutifully. Maybe he should make a t-shirt with it so his Uncle would stop asking.

"Precisely. Now, we should aim to get in a few good compliments at dinner. Petunia, any ideas?"

"Vernon tells me you're a wonderful golfer, Mr. Mason… Do tell me where you bought your dress, Mrs. Mason…"

"Perfect… Dudley?"

"How about – 'We had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Mason, and I wrote about you.'"

This was too much for Aunt Petunia and she burst into tears. She hugged her son and kept patting his head.

Harry, on the other hand, stared at Dudley like he had a second head. Really? Wouldn't it reflect badly on the Dursley's if Dudley's go-to hero was a man he had not even really known? Ah, well. It wasn't like he would be present at the dinner anyway.

"And you, boy?" his Uncle turned back to him.

He really ought to make or get that t-shirt. "I'll be in my room, making no noise, and pretending I'm not there."

"Too right, you will. The Masons don't know anything about you and it's going to stay that way." Harry noticed that whenever he smiled at his Uncle, the elder Dursley would flinch and turn his attention to something else as quickly as possible. It amused Harry to no end. "When dinner's over, you take Mrs. Mason back to the lounge for coffee, Petunia, and I'll bring the subject around to drills. With any luck, I'll have the deal signed and sealed before the news at ten. We'll be shopping for a vacation home in Majorca this time tomorrow."

In all honesty, Harry did want his Uncle to get the deal. He wanted to go to Majorca too. Though, he doubted he'd be willingly invited. But one never knew. Maybe Mrs. Figg couldn't take him while they were away. And maybe, just maybe, the new vacation house had a cupboard too.

"Right – I'm off into town to pick up the dinner jackets for Dudley and myself. And you," he snarled at Harry, "You stay out of your Aunt's way while she's cleaning."

Harry was sorely tempted to just clean the house himself. He always did a better job than his Aunt did (in his eyes at least. That left out piece of toast and smother of ketchup on the table gave the place character! The table cloth was white for Merlin's sake. It needed the splash of color). But the elder Dursley's were just content in ignoring him or making him get out of their way. He had more-or-less adjusted to this new dynamic.

Harry left through the back door and entered the backyard. He smiled a bit as he lay down on the perfectly mowed grass, if he did say so himself. The sun was caressing his face with it's warm rays and the grass was a still damp from last night. He was feeling oddly content. More content than he had been in that stupid bedroom at least.

He started to think back on when he had felt as relaxed. Images of Hogwarts immediately went to the forefront of his mind. He missed Hogwarts. He missed the castle with its many wonders. He missed being among people that didn't seem to find his existence insulting (Mr. Filch being an exception. Though he swore the old man almost smiled at him when he was escorted to his first detention). He even missed Wayne and the other first years he had acquainted himself with over the year. He wondered if what they were up to now and whether they had been forced into larger bedrooms as well. He hoped not. It was a despicable experience.

"I know what day it is," said Dudley, waddling toward him.

He had to give it to Dudley, the boy had such a short attention span that he often remembered and forgot to avoid Harry. This made for entertaining days where Harry would make a bet with himself how long it would take Dudley to yelp and run away from him after initial contact. This time, Harry bet two and a half minutes. If he was wrong, he'd finally start on that Potions essay he had been avoiding. I mean, really. An essay on why certain ingredients should not be used with another was just the kind of thing that annoyed him.

"Well done," said Harry, keeping his eyes closed and not moving an inch. "So you've finally learned the days of the week."

"Today's your birthday," sneered Dudley. "How come you haven't got any cards? Haven't you even got friends at that freak place?"

Harry opened his eyes at that. It was his Birthday? Oh, he was definitely not doing the essay today then. It would be his little gift to himself: postponement of responsibilities (or procrastinating. Either would do).

He sat up on his elbows. "Ah, and so it is. Why? Care to wish me a good one this year, Dudley? That's mighty thoughtful."

Dudley hitched up his trousers, which were slipping down his fat bacon-crusted bottom. He looked to be almost ill at the thought of greeting Harry a happy birthday.

"So how come you haven't got any cards?" his cousin asked again.

Harry took a breath and looked him straight in the eye. "Who needs friends, when I've got you, Dudley? You're my bestest friend ever."

Dudley jumped and ran for the kitchen, but not without murmuring "freak" under his breathe.

Harry sighed as he realized it took three minutes for Dudley to jump away again. He was off by thirty seconds. Ah well, at least he had already decided to do his essay tomorrow.

Laying back down on the grass, Harry thought back to Dudley's question. Did it bother him that none of his acquaintances had written to him since school had ended? In all honesty, his answer was no. He had only ever received one letter at the Dursley home. That was his Hogwarts letter. And besides, he had left Hedwig at Hogwarts. He instructed her to stay since he could not. His gift to her of enchanted owl pellets had nothing to do with it. His instruction to fly around and drop colored stones, ones specially made by him, in random parts of the grounds, not withstanding.

He smirked as he thought of the timed chaos the probably bored Professors would endure. Hey, it wasn't fair that they got to stay and he didn't. A bit childish on his part, but he also knew that the excitement of it all would probably keep them young.

Thinking back on it, maybe he should have asked Hedwig to come around once she was done. Maybe another letter to the Marauders would yield better results than the last time. Besides, he could have also communicated with the Weasley twins. Those two were always good for a laugh. He suddenly missed his acquaintances and almost wished he were back in Hogwarts with even just the MerVamp for company.

"Boy!"

His moments of solitude and reflection came to a crashing halt as his Aunt finally thought to utilize the free labor and make him clean the windows (if she saw him make faces at himself through the reflections, she never commented), wash the car (he couldn't resist the urge and actually climbed to its roof and slid down in a whoosh, his bottom wet and soapy. His Aunt upturned the bucket on his head for his troubles), mow the already perfectly mowed lawn (he pretended to make crop circles. He didn't think his Aunt would notice. She did. And made him follow a pattern of her design instead.), and repainted the bench (He had written his name and painted over it so many times he had lost count.).

After his full day of chores and fun, he was finally given a slice of bread a bit of cheese for supper. He was forced to scarf it down as quickly as he could, chug down a whole glass of water, then was directed straight into his new bedroom.

It had already been repeatedly stated (too many times, in fact), that the Potter heir hated his new bedroom. But what he found on his bed actually made him give pause about his (possibly) unfair first impression of it. After all, he never had any visitors in the cupboard. And if the Dursley's had guests tonight, well, it was only fair he had one too. And he would treat the creature on his bed better than the Dursley's were treating the Masons!

"Hello." he stated, his eyes wide as took the creature in.

Well, he knew perfectly well what it was. He had seen plenty at Hogwarts. The creature had large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. It was wearing what looked to be an old pillowcase with rips for arm and leg holes. Harry couldn't help but think the pillowcase looked incredibly soft and comfortable despite the holes and loose threads, as all the best sleep clothes were.

The house elf slipped off the bed and bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose touched the floor.

"Harry Potter!" the creature had a high-pitched voice just like the ones in the kitchens. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, Sir... such an honor it is..."

Harry stared at the creature and at the (thankfully) closed door. "Err... yes. Good to meet you too, err.. sorry. I didn't catch your name."

The creature turned red. But the color clashed so horribly with its skin that Harry was worried he would have sick on his floor in a minute.

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," said the elf.

"Right. Well, I've never really had anyone come visit before..." Harry said uselessly until he remembered that he did have some knowledge on how to treat guests. But the house-elf was already in the house. Ah well, he could start here instead.

Puffing up his chest and doing his best impersonation, he tried his best simpering smile and said, "May I take your coat, Mr. Dobby?"

Harry wanted to hit himself when he noticed that the elf didn't have a coat. Strike one against his hosting skills. It didn't help that the house elf looked so shocked and startled that it looked like it was about to bawl, but Harry wasn't finished.

The elf seemed to already know who he was so he skipped the introductions. Next step then. He held out his arm, "May I take you through to the err.. other side of the bedroom, Mr. Dobby?"

The elf looked like he was in a haze as Harry grabbed the elfs hand and lay it on the crook of his arm and led the elf to a small chair he had just noticed. He ushered the elf to it and sat himself down on the floor.

Now for the next step his Uncle had spoken about. He may not have food to share to the elf, but he could surely think up a few good compliments.

"I've been told that house-elves are wonderful at cooking, Mr. Dobby... Do tell me where you got your pillowcase, Mr. Dobby..."

The elf's eyes got even bigger if it was possible, suddenly looking at its pillowcase as if seeing it for the first time.

Harry smiled and went in for the kill.

"We had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Dobby, and I wrote about you."

It proved to be too much for the house elf it got up from the chair quickly, accidentally pushing it down with a clatter. Mr. Dobby looked panicked and quickly reached to straighten it, but Harry had moved the second it hit the floor and was already holding on to the leg of the chair.

"Oh, let me!"

Mr. Dobby looked panicked, grabbing the other leg of the chair, "No, no, Mr. Potter! Let Dobby!"

Harry pulled at the tiny chair, "But you're a guest! I insist!"

Mr. Dobby pulled back, "No, no, Mr. Potter! It-it isn't right sir! Dobby's is a house-elf, see!"

Harry pulled slightly harder, the little creature stepping forward as a result, "A house-elf that has come to call! I simply cannot-"

"No, No!" Dobby pulled again, "Dobby did it, Dobby must-!"

Harry used his advantage of having a bigger body and lay the chair upright, they were both still holding on to two legs each. "There! See! We did it together. Well, done, old chap!" he let go of the legs and sat back down on the floor.

The little creature looked so confused and overwhelmed that Harry patted the floor next to the elf. "Well, take a seat Mr. Dobby. Plenty of floor to go around if you don't want the chair."

Mr. Dobby plopped himself onto the floor and let out a miserable howl. "Oh! Oh! There were stories, Sir! Stories of how great Harry Potter was. But no one says how good."

Harry frowned, "I can't be all that good if my first house guest is bawling his eyes out during the visit."

The house elf quickly quieted down. "Oh, but sir. It is... Dobby has never been treated like an equal by a wizard! And by Harry Potter, no less!"

"Really?" Harry pondered. "I don't know how it goes on in the Wizarding World but all of this is normal here." Well. Relatively normal.

Mr. Dobby sobbed again, but quieter now. "Oh yes. The Muggles must be great and good to have showed greatness and goodness to Harry Potter."

Harry glanced at his door and shrugged. "Eh. They're alright."

Mr. Dobby wiped his tears on his pillowcase. And Harry remembered the manners drilled into him by watching his Aunt interact with the neighbor women.

"So, what brings you by today? Is it the begonias again? Or has Richard done something to that blasted lawn mower? You can borrow ours if it becomes too much of a nuisance." He thought he did an incredible impersonation of his Aunt.

The house-elf didn't seemed confused but shook its head before getting a determined look on his face. "Dobby has come to warn the great Harry Potter!"

Harry stared, "Warn me? By jove. That sounds important. Warn me about what?"

"He must not go back to Hogwarts." the house-elf whispered.

Harry was non-plussed. "Err... why?"

"There is a plot! A plot, Harry Potter! A plot to make the most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," the house-elf kept whispering. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

Harry frowned. "Well, Mr. Dobby. Consider me warned. Is there anything else you have come by for?"

It was the house-elf's turn to stare, "So Mr. Potter will not be returning to Hogwarts?"

Harry sighed and rubbed his temples dramatically. He suddenly pictured himself in one of those afternoon soap operas his Aunt had taken to watching this summer. "I have been quite accommodating of you, Mr. Dobby. But I'm afraid you have been terribly rude in return."

The house-elf's eyes widened and he stood. "No! Never rude to Mr. Potter! Never!"

"I have welcomed you to my humble abode. Have offered you comfort in a chair and on the floor as you insisted. I have listened to your warning. I have kept my end of the deal. But you, master elf, have entered without my express permission. You have disallowed me from going to get my education. And! I just remembered it is my birthday. What a birthday visit this has been. I know I may not have tea or biscuits to serve you, but I think I should have been treated better than that." Harry flourished with his diatribe, but kept his voice at an even tone and volume like he had seen on the telly. The younger woman in that scene had looked cowed by her great Aunt, a role Harry was currently undertaking.

Mr. Dobby sure looked cowed. "But-but... Dobby only means to protect Harry Potter. Never insult-"

The elf grabbed the nearest object, which happened to be the chair, and proceeded to hit himself on the head with it.

"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

Harry suddenly heard footsteps at the end of the hall. He had completely forgotten about the Dursleys and their guests.

"Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!"

His Uncle flung the door open and spotted the strange creature hitting itself on the head with a small chair. He eyes went from the creature to Harry, then back and forth. His brain seemed to be short circuiting and his face was turning purple.

Harry turned to the Mr. Dobby.

"I think you should go."

The house-elf disappeared with a deafening crack.

His Uncle turned to him in an instant, his face horribly close to Harry's. "What - the - devil - are - you - doing?"

Harry met his gaze head on and said, in a monotone voice, "I am in my room, making a little noise, and am now pretending I 'm not here."

He really had been spending too much time with the twins. He wondered how he would be paying for it this time.


	15. Directions, For Bearing and Conduct

Chapter 15 – Directions, For Bearing and Conduct

Now, it had been years since the Potter heir had… _experimented_ with other sentient creatures. Well, without their consent at least. He had learned, after extensive trial and error, that some actions were _unacceptable_ in the eyes of society. Such as burnt bacon, that was unacceptable. Getting grades that were higher than Dudders': that was unacceptable. Harry smiling in his Uncle's general direction: that was also unacceptable. He had spent years of his life observing his family, and how they reacted to him, to have a set of unwritten rules to which he assumed were acts that were socially _acceptable_ and _unacceptable_ , and in turn, were _breakable_ and _unbreakable_. Of course, no one told him that his family wasn't exactly… well… in all honesty, his family was nowhere near the standard to which _anyone_ should base their social cues on. Alas, Harry had to work with what he had and knew. Using his observation skills to guide him, he had a new unwritten rule to add to his growing list of unacceptable behavior. No guests allowed without his Aunt or Uncles' consent. To his defense, he'd never _had_ any guests before. How was he supposed to know?

Well, none of the Dursley's seemed to care about that tidbit. So here the young Potter heir was, lying down on his least favorite bed, in his least favorite room, in all of Privet Drive. He sighed. It was taking all his effort not to goo up the place. But making a mess was, unfortunately, also unacceptable. At first, he was extremely upset and bored. until he found something else _relatively new_ in his room. It was hidden beneath a few unopened books, having probably rolled under the unused bookshelf. He found himself a _laser pointer._ He had spent an embarrassing amount of time playing with the little red light, his eyes watching carefully as he pointed it all over his room. He had taken to keeping the small toy in his pocket.

He turned his head to his window and smiled. His Uncle had also granted him a few new improvements to his room to make his incarceration a bit more tolerable (not that his Uncle saw it that way). His window now had the added beauty of shiny metal bars that sparkled when the sun hit them right. Harry spent hours staring at them when they were first installed, using the laser pointer on them when the sunlight just wasn't enough. Locks were also placed on the other side of his door. His Uncle would come up to them and test them out one by one to make sure that they were in proper working order. Harry would rush to the door when he heard his Uncle's heavy footsteps approaching. He loved listening to the odd clicks, clangs, and bangs that the individual locks would make. And best of all, he had a _cat flap_. A cat flap! His Aunt would use it to slide in food three times a day. It was amazing. No more doing the dishes or slaving away at the stove. It was an automatic food delivery system. It was almost like a vacation. And in his mind, he imagined that it was not his Aunt pushing in the food, but an adorable cat in a tuxedo. Harry even meowed a few times at the flap as his food slipped in. He would always let out a laugh when he heard his Aunt scamper off at the sound.

And sure, his days locked in that _relatively_ new room of his were incontestable… at least in his family's eyes. But his _nights_? Well. Those were his alone. He would phase through the locked door and roam around the dark house. He even went for a walk to the park once. And he was planning on doing so again that night. He strained his ears to catch the sounds his family made before going to bed. He heard heavy footsteps, flushing toilets, and running faucets, and, finally, slamming doors. These were his cues that it was now safe to wander.

Grinning, he jumped up and headed to his door. He phased through and made his way down the stairs and out of the house. He took in a huge breath of air and sighed. Ah, he missed the outdoors. He stretched out his limbs as he walked towards the park.

He loved that park. That was where he discovered that he could break rules and society's notions of what was _impossible._ Some of his favorite early memories were made during his days at this park. But now that he was a bit older, he realized that he loved the park at night. There were virtually no other visitors, save the occasional person passing through. But tonight, he was the sole visitor of Privet Drive Park.

Despite his past visits, there was still one thing he had not been able to do at the park. And it was his wish that he would finally get to do so that night. He was finally going to sit on the swings, go as high as he could, and jump off of it. He had always wanted to do so, ever since he was smaller. But Dudley, seeing his interest, had always made sure to occupy the swing sets with his friends. Harry had no choice but to watch from afar as Dudley stood around it (Dudley actually couldn't fit on the swings anymore. His bacon-crusted-bottom couldn't fit on the wooden plank). But tonight, Harry would finally please a childhood desire and play on the damn swings.

He stood in front of the swing set and took a good look at the parts. Hm. It looked stable enough. The seat looked sturdy. So did the chain, just having a small amount of rust. Deeming the set good enough, he smiled a bit and sat down. Hm. He experimented a bit by pushing and pulling himself back and forth with his feet still on the ground. Slowly he started to use a bit more force. He grinned when he finally lifted off enough that his feet would not touch the ground. This was exhilarating! Not as good as an owl, or even a broom, of course. But there was just something exhilarating about this experience… This was amazing. Now he knew why those children always used to hog the swings.

He made himself go higher, and higher. He was going so high that he was almost at leveling off with the steel rod to which the chain was attached to. He held tight, waited until he was at the highest point, and jumped off. For a second, he thought was going to crash and break at least a dozen of his bones. But as the ground drew nearer, he tucked in a bit and distributed his weight as he landed. He rolled into the grass as he did, laughing the whole time. Laying down on the damp grass he couldn't stop grinning. It was a beautiful night, why not star gaze a little? He raised his hand up and traced the sky. As if he was a painter working on his masterpiece. He traced his fingers over the moon, its glow so bright that he didn't even mind so much that it was shining the color he hated. His fingers flitted around as he dotted the sky with its stars, varying in sizes and connecting together like his cousins' childhood connect-the-dots books. There were some clouds that he waved his hand over, as if spreading the paint he put on his canvas. And he traced out the path of the car that-

Hang on.

He sat up, eye twitching as he realized what it was that he was actually seeing. He rubbed both of his eyes and looked up again. He was not hallucinating. And he watched, fascinated, as it flew over to Number Four.

Could he be so lucky that he would be getting two unexpected guests in the span of a summer?

Tilting his head, he immediately light-speed traveled to back to his room. He appeared in a shadowed corner, near the little chair that Dobby used as a personal whacking device.

"Psst," a familiar voice came from the car. "Potter! Psst!"

"D'you reckon he's asleep?" another familiar voice asked.

"'Dunno. Should we throw a pebble or something?"

Harry grinned, identifying the voices. He stepped towards the window. "Were you just flying by the neighborhood then? Thought you'd just swing by?"

The two red-haired fiends stopped bickering and looked at Harry in shock.

"Mate. We got worried, see, you didn't answer our letters for ages!"

"Errol kept coming back with them unopened!"

"Dad said he asked about it, and you _should_ have been getting our letters."

"Thought we'd do a little recon and see if you were alright."

Harry's smile widened. "Of course I am. Never got any letters though."

The twins shared a look, an unreadable expression passing between them. They both glanced at the bars, thinking that it may be the cause. "Mate, we don't want to intrude on your business..."

"But why are there bars on your window?" Neither of them mentioned the most alarming thing they noticed. There was no sign of any bars on any of the other windows on the house.

Harry gave them a puzzled look. "What's wrong with it? I think it gives my new room character. It's loads better than it was before."

The twins shared another look. "What was it like before then?"

He thought back to his beloved cupboard, he smiled a bit, before he remembered that he could no longer return to it. He frowned then sighed heavily. He smiled wistfully (which made him look sadder than a kicked puppy). "I used to live in the cupboard under the stairs."

As the Potter heir was reminiscing, he missed the looks of alarm that passed on the twins faces. They glanced at each other again before nodding.

"We've come to take you home with us."

This startled Harry out of his internal cupboard-themed montage. "What?"

"Yeah, tie that around the bars," said Fred, throwing the end of a rope to Harry.

Harry stared at the rope, then at the twins. "If my relatives wake up, I'm dead."

"Don't worry," George smiled at him, "Trust us."

Harry nodded before tying the rope tightly around the middle bar. Fred revved up the engine and Harry realized what the twins were planning. He panicked. "Hold on, I like the ba-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence because, with a crunching noise, the bars were pulled clean out of the window. Fred had driven straight up in the air. Harry's jaw dropped as he saw his bars dangling a few feet above the ground. George hoisted them up into the car and the twins high-fived. Fred reversed the car to be as close as possible to Harry's window.

"Get in!" They said together.

Harry was too shocked to do anything but comply. Before he got too comfortable, George turned to him and asked, "Hang on, have you've got your wand, and books, and stuff?"

He slapped his forehead. "Right."

Harry climbed back into his room and grabbed his things from the loose floorboards. He started placing them in his trunk that he casually enlarged with a thought. It was a good thing, then, that his room was so dark that neither of the twins saw him do so.

Climbing back onto the car, he glanced at the bars on the seat next to him. "Say… can we put the bars back?"

The twins glanced at each other again, "Err... Why would we want to do that?" Fred asked.

Harry quickly made an excuse, no way was he going to admit that he stared at shiny objects in his spare time. "That way, it'll make my Uncle go crazy not knowing how I got out. I'd be like Houdini! And he wouldn't be able to say that coz he doesn't like to admit that magic is real. He'd be hemming and hawing and not being able to actually say anything."

Both twins guffawed before helping him straighten out the bars and putting them back on.

"Blimey! This is harder than I thought it would be." George puffed out.

"Almost done," Fred mumbled, trying to jam one of the corners in. He underestimated his strength. The corner pressed in before, making a little crunch noise. This was their only warning before the whole thing fell to the ground with a thunderous clang.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT?"

The three shared a glance, transfixed, as his door flew open. They all stared at his Uncle. His Uncle's face went through a myriad of colors once more, before bellowing, "Petunia! He's getting away!"

Harry shrugged before saluting his Uncle. "See you next summer!"

"Step on it!" George shouted at Fred as he put his seatbelt on.

Fred wasted no time in putting as much distance between them and Number Four as he could. All three could still hear his Uncle bellowing below them. Harry suddenly wondered if it was _socially acceptable_ for him to leave without his relatives' approval. Then again, he'd done it before... There was a precedent. So he let himself relax and laughed with the twins. The two started debating their top five favorite colors on his Uncle's face.

"So where'd you even get a flying car?" He asked them, patting the seats next to him.

"It's our Dad's, enchanted it himself. He's mad about muggles." George smiled.

Fred, who Harry newly discovered knew how to drive, added, "He likes buying muggle things, taking them apart, and putting them back together. Puts spells between the parts as he pleases."

"Which is ironic, since he's the works at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

The twins went on and started describing the rest of their family. Harry was fascinated. They went on about their Mum, who was apparently quite a frightening woman. They clearly idolized their older brothers Bill and Charlie, both out of Hogwarts. Harry had already met Charlie during that _loud_ dragon drop-off. He still winced when he remembered how Hagrid had been that night. Their third elder brother, Percy, was apparently a prat. Though, Harry had a feeling that the twins nonetheless looked up to him too. They complained about Ron, both clearly fond of their younger brother despite what they were saying. When it came to their only sister, both twins just shared a look before being more or less being quiet about her. In the back of the Potter heirs mind, he remembered the young special girl at the station last year and his mouth formed an 'o'. He made a mental note of being extra nice to her when they met. Unbeknownst to him, the twins were holding back laughter since they couldn't wait for their baby sister to meet her long-time crush.

"We'll be there in a bit," Fred called out.

"Just as well," George shrugged. "It's getting a bit light."

The car started to fly lower and Harry observed the dark patchwork of fields and clumps of trees below them. Pretty soon, the car touched the ground and came to a rolling stop next to a strangely designed house.

Harry took in his first look of the Weasley home, and he grinned. It looked like it was originally a large stone pigpen, but it jutted out at least several stories above ground. It was a house that defied the law of gravity and physics, leaning every which way per layer. It looked like organized chaos decided to make a house and stopped half-way. Harry was in love.

"This is brilliant."

Both twins grinned at him and helped take his trunk to the front door.

"If we're lucky, we can sneak in, then up to our room. We can tell Mum-"

"You can tell Mum WHAT exactly? Maybe where you happened to _be_ last night? Or how about why the car was _gone_? I have been _losing my mind_ with worry! Beds empty! Car gone! No note! Ooh, your Father will hear about this! Never, none of my other boys _ever_ did _anything_ like this. You could have _died!_ And your Father, Merlin, you wait until your Father gets home _._ "

"Err… Hello." Harry said awkwardly, stepping out from behind the twins. He had to wonder if Fred and George's actions were _unacceptable_ behavior. Going by how Mrs. Weasley was reacting, he guessed probably not. Fred and George were wincing as they experienced the full brunt of her displeasure.

And just like a tap, that displeasure disappeared when she turned to him. "Very pleased to see _you_ , Harry, dear. We were quite worried when your letters kept coming back. Come in and have some breakfast."

Well, maybe it was acceptable behavior... if done by adults. Maybe Fred didn't have a license? Either way, he made a mental note to look into it a bit more.

She turned and walked back into the house. Harry turned to look at the twins, they just shrugged.

"She's mad too."

He just smiled at them, "I'll say it again: this is brilliant."

Their kitchen was a lot smaller than the Dursleys', and it was a lot more disorganized. But Harry knew which one he preferred. The Weasley kitchen was _alive._ Pots and pans were cleaning themselves, a kettle was pouring hot water into several cups with tea bags, dishes were drying themselves with some levitating cloth, and eggs were cracking themselves over a large bowl. There was a clock on the wall opposite him which only had one hand and no numbers. Instead, presumably, the Weasley Matriarch's schedule was imbued where the numbers ought to be. Things like _Time to Make Tea, Time to Feed the Chickens,_ and _You're late_. In seemingly random spots of the walls were bookshelves. They were stacked with books like _Charm Your Own Cheese, Enchantment in Baking, One Minute Feasts – It's Magic!,_ and _Give Me Another Loaf – Real Bread Talk!_ Mrs. Weasley also seemed to surprisingly enjoy some sort of heavy rock music, judging from the guitar riffs playing softly from an old radio. According to the disc jockey, it was the Galloping Gargoyles best hits from the 60s. There were a wooden table and chairs in the middle of the kitchen. Harry was pulled down between the twins.

Mrs. Weasley threw dirty looks at the twins as she went about cooking breakfast. She dropped sausages into a frying pan and magicked the eggs into another. She kept mumbling under her breath, not so quietly, things like "don't know _what_ you were thinking of," and " _completely_ irresponsible", and " _never_ would have believed it."

She banged the dishes piled with eggs, sausages, and bacon in front of the Twins, throwing them dirty looks. She then gently placed a plate of bread in front of Harry.

"I don't blame _you_ , dear," she smiled. "Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were talking about coming over and checking on you ourselves if you hadn't replied to their letters by Friday. But really" (She placed two large spoonfuls of eggs on his plate) "flying an illegal car halfway across the country – anyone could have seen you-"

As she turned away, both brothers began to pile sausages and bacon onto Harry's plate.

"It was _cloudy_ , Mum!" said Fred, as he ate a bit of his own bacon.

"You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!" She snapped.

"There were _bars_ on his windows!" added George.

"And you!" said Mrs. Weasley.

"Oi. What's goin' on here?" a voice mumbled from the stairs. Ron Weasley stood in a rumpled shirt and pajama bottoms at the foot of the stairs. "Oh. 'Ello Harry. G'morning."

Harry greeted the boy in kind. Just as he was about to ask Ron how _his_ summer had been, a small squeal was heard then loud footsteps, and finally, a door banging.

Ron looked up the stairs and sighed. "That was Ginny."

"I'm _sure_ she'll make your acquaintance later on." Smirked George.

Both twins starting shaking, though Harry didn't know why. He sniffed his bacon before shrugging and eating it anyway. Everything was delicious. The party became quiet, only the sounds of scraping cutlery and chewing filled the air until Harry felt like his stomach was full to bursting.

'Now _this'_ , Harry thought, 'was how one properly treated guests!'

Fred yawned loudly, " _Blimey_. I think a nice warm bed is-"

" _Out of the question!"_ Mrs. Weasley snapped. "It's your own fault why you've been up all night. You will de-gnome the garden for me."

Fred sat up. "But Mum-"

"No buts!" She turned to George. "You will help your brother!"

George groaned but did not protest.

She turned to Ron and Harry. "We can set up a bed for you in Ron's room, dear. Merlin knows what's going on in the Twins'. You can head up to bed in a jiffy. Just give me a minute to conjure up the bed for you."

"I'll help Fred and George. I'm not tired at all." Harry smiled.

"That's very sweet of you, dear, but it's dull work," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now. Let's see what Lockhart's got to say on the subject-"

George groaned as Mrs. Weasley got a very large tome from the stack on the mantelpiece. "Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden."

Harry looked at the cover of the large tome. At the very top of the cover, in gold glittering letters, were the words _Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests._ The rest of the cover was a huge photograph of a good-looking wizard with hair as shiny as the lettering, and bright blue eyes. The photograph was moving as the man, presumably, Gilderoy Lockhart himself smiled at them all. Mrs. Weasley beamed down at him.

"He is marvelous," she said. "He knows is household pests, all right, it's a wonderful book…"

"Mum _fancies_ him," said Fred, in an overly exaggerated stage whisper.

"Don't be ridiculous, Fred-" Mrs. Weasley began but Harry cut her off.

"May I borrow the book, Mrs. Weasley? I've never read it and I don't know much about Wizarding pests."

She looked taken aback. After a heartbeat, Mrs. Weasley smiled at Harry. "Of course, dear. Maybe you can teach a thing or two of his tips to the twins while they're de-gnoming."

She placed the book in Harry's hands. He almost dropped it with how heavy it actually was.

The twins trudged off with Harry and Ron following them. Ron was not interested in de-gnoming the garden but had nothing better to do. So he decided to watch.

Harry sat down by one of the walls and propped the book on his lap. He searched for the right page and started to read the entry on gnomes.

' _A_ Gnome, or Garden Gnome, _is a magical creature whose correct taxonomical name is_ Gernumbli gardensi. _They are_ _locally found throughout Europe and North America. An adult Gnome can reach the size of approximately one foot. Typically brown in color, they have disproportionately large heads. Although classified as XX by the Ministry of Magic, meaning that these creatures are harmless and can be domesticated, they have razor sharp teeth and tend to bite. Their feet are also hard and bony, making them very good burrowers._

_Gnomes typically live in burrows underground, known as gnomeholes, where they depend on the roots of plants as sustenance. Although, they reportedly also enjoy worms and Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans. Coincidentally, the Authors favorite flavor of Bertie Bott's is chocolate. Then again, who doesn't love chocolate? Although themselves brown in color, after extensive research, the Author discovered that the Gnomes do not like chocolate flavored beans. Instead, they seem to prefer beans in bright red colors such as the liver flavored ones, a flavor which the Author does not like. Though their preference may be due to the color, and not the actual flavor of the bean._

_The proper procedure for Gnome-control is to have a large box, a stick, a piece of string, and plenty of worms and beans. One must take a lot of worms and beans, and place them in an area that the Gnomes may sniff out. Place the box on top of the bait, making sure to place the stick on one edge of the box to prop it up. Tie one end of the string around the stick. The smell of the bait will lure the Gnomes out of their Gnomeholes. Once the Gnome is under the box and eating the bait, pull the string attached to stick. The box will fall and you have caught the Gnome. The Author wishes you the best of luck, and accept your deepest gratitude in discovering a new way to get rid of Gnomes without touching them.'_

Harry glanced at Ron, who was happily munching on a pack of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans. Then he turned to the twins who were shuffling towards a bush.

"That's a Gnome," mumbled Ron as he spat out a green bean.

"Gerroff me! Gerroff me!" squealed the Gnome.

It looked like a large leathery potato with small arms and legs. George grabbed it by the ankles and started to spin around and around. When the velocity of the spin was at its peak, George let go and they watched as the gnome flew thirty feet into the air and landed in the field over the hedge.

"Don't worry. It doesn't hurt them." Ron told Harry. "You just have to make them really dizzy so they can't find their way back to the gnomeholes."

"Pitiful." Fred mocked his twin. "I bet I can get mine beyond that stump."

The twins started the de-gnoming in earnest. They were teasing and mocking each other as they competed for who could throw the gnomes the farthest. Harry glanced at the pile of discarded green beans by Ron.

"Can I have that?" He asked.

Ron looked mildly disgusted. "Uhhh… Sure?"

Harry looked around and saw a box and shovel by the shed. He took both and started to set up his trap as the book said. He got a string and stick from inside the shed, and propped up the box over the discarded beans. He shooed Ron away from his trap and the two hid in a bush.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked Harry as he chewed on a cherry flavored bean.

Three Gnomes popped out of the ground and started running towards the beans. When they were all under the box, Harry pulled the string.

Oomph!

Harry rushed to the box and sat on top of it.

Ron followed after him at a more sedate pace. "Err.. what now?"

Harry glanced at the book again but the Author now kept going on about how thankful the reader should be. And conveniently, the Author had also listed his favorite surprise gifts to receive. He frowned and put his hand in his pocket. He felt something thin and cylindrical. Pulling it out, he smiled.

When Harry looked up, he saw a bunch of gnomes poking their heads out of their gnomeholes.

"They're not too bright," Ron smirked. "The moment they know the de-gnoming's going on, they storm up to have a look. You'd think they'd have learned by now to just stay put."

Harry's smile widened, an idea forming in his mind. He pressed the little button on the side of his toy and pointed it to an area near one of the gnomes. Once the light was in the gnomes line of sight, it turned to it, transfixed. Harry got off the box.

"Ron, when I tell you to, get off the box and pull it aside."

Ron looked at him as if he was mental.

"Just trust me."

Ron nodded to him.

Harry moved the light towards the box, and the gnome watching followed it.

"Now!" Ron jumped off and pulled the box aside, exposing the three gnomes once again.

The light stopped between all three. They looked down, their pupils large. Harry started to move the light again.

"What in Merlin's-"

Harry paid no mind to Ron. He did not notice that the twins had stopped throwing the gnomes, especially since the ones they were going to had now joined Harry's little herd. The three Weasley boys all came together to the once upturned box, turned it upside down again, and sat on it. Their jaws were dropped as Harry led a merry band of thirty-or-so garden gnomes around their backyard. Harry slowly started to climb a low-lying branch of a tree, and when he had enough of a vantage point, started to twirl the light around and around. The garden gnomes started to follow, hitting each other and falling down as they struggled to follow the light. It was like watching a hive of drunk and confused bees try to communicate with each other in their discombobulated state.

"Hey, George!" He called.

Fred and George looked up from their own hypnotized gaze at the gnomes.

"Is there a gate or something I can lead them to?"

The twins stood pointed him towards a small gate that Harry hadn't noticed before. Harry made the light go through a convoluted path towards the gate, twirling the gnomes the whole time. Finally, as the gnomes reached the stump on the hill outside the property, Harry clicked his laser pointer off. The gnomes immediately snapped out of their state. The _dance_ they performed took its toll and they all flopped to the ground. Some tried to stand but were too dizzy to keep upright for more than a second. The Weasley boys turned to Harry, their jaws still dropped.

Harry blinked. "What? I just followed the book."

They all turned to the forgotten book by the box. The picture of Gilderoy Lockhart winked at them.

"I guess we were wrong…" George whispered. "Gilderoy Lockhart knows his stuff."

Fred groaned. "Don't tell Mum."

Harry had to wonder if, in the Wizarding World, it was _socially acceptable,_ or even _expected,_ that children actively attempt to prove their parents wrong. As he watched the three brothers agree _not_ to tell their Mother about what they discovered, Harry had to concede. Perhaps he should take his wizarding social cues from the twins. After all, in the wizarding world, when had they ever steered him wrong?


End file.
